Primae Noctis
by Fragilereality
Summary: Hermione and Draco plan to thwart the Marriage Incentivisation Programme by getting hitched. It seems like the perfect solution until Lucius shows up on their wedding day with a bottle of champagne and some very disturbing news. Shameless smut, fluff and silliness.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N This is such a bad idea. Two days before NaNoWriMo when I'm supposed to be writing an original story and I decide I have to release this ridiculous tale into the world.**

 **This little two shot is really quite silly. I've been wanting to write Lucius as a sexually inexperienced prude for some time, but I seem to have taken things one step further. The second half will hopefully be up within the next few days...real life permitting.**

 **A/N 2 - Massive thanks to Vitelia who sent me a list of corrections for this chapter. Comma splices are the devil's work. If you are a Sevmione fan then you must immediately read her story Past Imperfect. In fact, read it even if you aren't because you will be by the time it's finished.**

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It's not love exactly. Well, not romantic love anyway. What she has with Draco is warm, uncomplicated, safe.

Hermione raises her fingers to her face almost afraid to touch her own skin. The beautiful woman staring back at her is as unfamiliar to her as her surroundings. Hermione Granger is a busy Ministry worker with bushy hair and a penchant for comfortable shoes. It appears that Hermione Malfoy will be a more glamorous creature entirely if the battalion of stylists, shoppers, hair and makeup artists who have manipulated her into her wedding gown have anything to say.

She tugs a little at the jewel-encrusted bodice which sits entirely too low for her comfort. Of course, it doesn't move. Her gown is so exquisitely tailored and thoroughly engineered it's going to require a dedicated fire and rescue crew to get her out of it. Or one dedicated husband. She shudders a little at the thought. She likes Draco and they have an understanding. Still, she's not looking forward to her wedding night.

She adjusts a curl that doesn't need adjusting and glances toward the window. Down on the lawn, the guests are assembling. Amongst them her friends some more bemused than others at her choice of spouse.

Not Harry, he gets it. He spends enough time at the Ministry to see what is happening. The Marriage Incentive Programme was only the beginning. Hermione doesn't blame the Ministry. What were they supposed to do? Faced with a population decimated by civil war they had to do something to increase the birth rate. Incentivising marriage seemed like an innocuous step. If things had stopped there Hermione wouldn't be in her current pickle. She didn't need government assistance in buying her first home or a tax-free payment plan for a top of the range broom. But things haven't stopped there. Societal prejudice has grown until being unmarried is strictly frowned upon and even considered unpatriotic in some corners. At work, Hermione has hit a glass ceiling. After years of missed promotions and having her work overlooked she knows she is no longer being judged on her abilities but on the lack of a ring on her finger.

Harry understands all this and accepts her decision to marry Malfoy with a philosophical shrug. Marriage and fatherhood have softened him. Ron, not so much.

"But I would have married you, Hermione!" His plaintive wail no longer has the power to tug on her heartstrings. Things with Ron are...complicated.

Hermione doesn't want a complicated marriage. She doesn't need someone at home with dinner waiting in the oven and plans to spend the evening snuggling on the sofa. Whilst Ron might still hold a candle for her Hermione's own flame was extinguished a long time ago. She will not risk hurting Ron by offering him this sterile arrangement.

And Draco? They both know she is doing him a favour. The Malfoy name is still mud in many circles. Draco doesn't care about a job in the Ministry. He has no need to jump through hoops in order to climb the political ladder. His eventual position as head of Malfoy industries is assured, but he cares very much about what people think of him and as the husband of Hermione Granger he will be elevated from almost war criminal to not quite war hero.

Hermione continues to stare at herself in the mirror of the vanity unit. It is hours before Harry arrives to walk her down the aisle. Why on earth did the wedding planner insist on her being ready so ridiculously early? Her eyes are growing heavy; she barely slept the previous night and is now beginning to suffer the consequences. She rests her cheek against the heel of her hand and stares into space.

She is jolted out of her reverie by a knock on the door. She assumes it will be Narcissa come to fuss over some tiny insignificant detail. The pureblood witch is fully behind Hermione and Draco's union. She has found being banned from several of the shops on Diagon Ally most inconvenient and she hopes that in championing Hermione she will improve her societal standing once more.

To Hermione's surprise, it is not Narcissa, but Lucius who enters the room. Draco's father has not been so easily won over as his mother. Hermione knows he has never spoken openly against their union. Draco reports that his father is grudgingly in favour of the marriage, but also that when Draco first broke the news of their engagement Lucius let forth a display of involuntary magic so powerful it smashed an entire tea set and a Sevres vase. Following that revelation, Hermione has done her best to avoid the Malfoy scion, a feat which has not proven difficult as he seems equally keen to avoid her. All of this begs the question what exactly is he doing standing in the doorway of her suite clutching a bottle of champagne and two glasses?

"Mr. Malfoy." She springs to her feet unwilling to give him the slightest of advantages although standing does little to rectify the disparity in their heights.

"Miss Granger." He enters the room, the door behind him closing with a soft click. "Considering the nature of our future associations might I call you Hermione?" He's polite. Very polite. Hermione doesn't like it.

"Of course, and perhaps I should call you Father?" She can't help but rile him. He winces.

"Lucius will suffice."

He places the bottle and glasses down on the vanity unit and turns to regard Hermione. She is surprised by his expression; he looks almost tentative.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Malf - Lucius?"

To her surprise he runs a hand across his face and turns away, presenting her with his profile as he uncorks the champagne. It is a curiously celebratory sound given the sombre atmosphere he has brought with him.

"You'd better drink this." He presents her with a glass of perfectly chilled champagne. Hermione takes it carefully and regards the finely cut crystal for a moment before she takes a sip. It is delicious, crisp and dry. The bubbles explode on her tongue. She takes another sip savouring the delicacy. To her surprise, Lucius drinks his entire glass in a single swallow and bends slightly to refill the goblet. Hermione wonders how he manages such a feat without burping.

"Drink up," he tells her as he raises his own glass once more. Hermione takes another careful sip.

"I'm quite sensitive to alcohol." She doesn't know why she feels the need to explain. "If I drink too much I won't make it down the aisle." She narrows her eyes. "And if that's your plan, Lucius, you might as well leave now." She stamps her silk-clad foot and points toward the door. Lucius ignores her.

"Oh please, Hermione. Believe me when I say that I am at least resigned to this farce of a union. In fact, I can even see it has its benefits." He pauses to take another swallow of champagne.

"Then why are you here?" Hermione puts down her own glass. She's had quite enough of this bizarre interlude. She frowns. Is Lucius Malfoy blushing?

"I understand that my son has not informed you of all the customs associated with a Malfoy wedding."

"Do you?" Hermione bristles immediately. How dare he question her knowledge? She has spent weeks researching pureblood marriage rituals and has quizzed Draco on every aspect of the union. "I think you will find yourself to be sorely mistaken in that regard Mr...Lucius. I am fully aware of the necessary rituals. For example: the midnight cleansing, the need to refresh the blood wards surrounding the manor at the next full moon, and the swearing in of the house elves." She gives him a smug smile.

"Bravo." His slow hand clap is as insulting as his tone. "You have successfully memorised every pureblood marriage ritual in the book. What are you expecting, an extra NEWT?"

"No," Hermione sniffs. "I have twelve of them already. Why don't you just get to the point?"

"I would," he snaps, "If somebody would stop interrupting me."

Hermione lapses into mutinous silence and takes another sip of her champagne.

"Since my son has told you everything there is to know about our marriage customs I assume he has informed you of the Primae Nocttis ritual." Lucius takes the seat she had vacated on his arrival and crosses one elegant leg across the other. Hermione looks away. She finds Lucius a little challenging. Obviously, she dislikes him, but she is not immune to his appearance. Her eyes skitter wildly around the room looking for something safe upon which to rest. She fixes them on the corner of the bedpost whilst she desperately racks her brain. Eventually, she is forced to admit defeat.

"I don't believe I am familiar with that ritual," she admits.

"It is a particularly archaic practice which I believe is only observed by our family." He pauses to take another slug of champagne. "In his defence, my son was only made aware of the requirements after your betrothal documents had been signed. He assured me he would not have pressed his suit had he been aware of this particular ceremony."

Hermione is losing interest.

"Look, whatever we need to do, let's just get on with it, I'm sick to death with all the faffing around. Just anoint me with goats' blood, or whatever it is you need to do and bugger off."

"Hermione, I really think…"

"Honestly, Lucius I've had it up to here with all these rituals, I really don't want to know."

"Fine."

Lucius rises to his feet with his usual grace and begins to unfasten his robes. Hermione watches in silence as he places the heavy brocade across the bed. Next, he removes his cravat. Hermione has never seen him so casually dressed and she cannot help but admire the smooth column of his throat. However, she begins to grow anxious when he removes his cuff links and starts to unbutton his shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"Removing my shirt."

"Does this ritual need to be carried out naked?"

"Yes, if we're to complete it without my shirt being irrevocably creased."

Hermione is hit by a sudden and utterly horrid suspicion.

"Wait!" She throws up a hand hoping to forestall any further loss of clothing.

"I thought you wanted to just get on with it?"

He has undone more than half of the pearl buttons and an alluring sliver of the surprisingly muscular chest has appeared. Hermione valiantly refuses to look at it.

"I've changed my mind….I think I need to know what it actually entails."

Lucius pauses in his striptease his and gestures in the direction of her abandoned champagne flute.

"I strongly advise you to finish that."

"Just tell me what I have to do." Hermione's limited supply of patience has waned.

"Bugger Draco," Lucius mutters under his breath. Hermione crosses her arms and taps her foot.

Lucius sighs deeply and turns to contemplate the view from the window. "The ritual of Primae Noctis was introduced several centuries ago in order to preserve the purity of the Malfoy bloodline." He raises an eyebrow as Hermione emits a snort of disgust. "Since you are about to become a Malfoy, Miss Granger, perhaps you might consider reining in your distaste for us. As I was saying, for millennia purity has been valued above everything else. Some families embraced a matrilineal inheritance line in order to assure the continuation of the bloodline. This, however, has been impossible for my family."

"Because of inherent sexism in pureblood culture?"

"No." His jaw clenches as he grits his back teeth. "Because for hundreds of generations the Malfoys have produced a single male child."

"Oh." Hermione hadn't known that.

"Primae Noctis safeguards the bloodline on the assumption that the familial patriarch is a true descendant. It assumes that the bloodline further down could have been contaminated." He is staring at Hermione with an intense look as if he is trying to communicate something more.

Lucius sighs. He is clearly disappointed that Hermione is so slow on the uptake. "Primae Noctis serves both to ascertain that the proposed bride is intact and at the same time gives the known heir the opportunity to preserve the bloodline." This time he slugs directly from the champagne bottle, his eyes wild.

"Holy fuck!" Hermione's brain has processed his flowery speech and she has finally put two and two together. "You want to have sex with me!"

"Absolutely not." Lucius drains the bottle. "Believe me, Hermione, there is nothing I wish to do less than engage in sexual congress with you. However, needs must."

Hermione files his little jibe away to be used against him later. "Well I can assure you, Mr. Malfoy I am intact as you so delicately put it. Your private healer has already confirmed it. You're the head of the family, surely you can overrule this ridiculous ritual"

Lucius shakes his head a look of genuine misery on his handsome face. "Believe me, Hermione if I could undo this I would. I have no desire for Draco to suffer the same humiliation as I. To be cuckolded by his own father…" He tails off briefly before visibly steeling himself.

"What..?" Hermione picks up on his unspoken inference. "Narcissa...and your father?" It's hard to imagine Draco's diamond-hard mother having sex with anyone let alone engaging in ritualised intercourse with her fiancé's father.

"Of course I was subject to the ritual." Lucius runs a hand through his hair and then instantly smooths the tousled locks. "I believe my father was quite thrilled to get his hands on Narcissa. Please believe me, Hermione, when I assure you my intentions are in no way lascivious."

"Because I'm Muggle-born?" Hermione snaps. She is inexplicably offended by the fact that Lucius doesn't want to sleep with her.

"No!" He widens his eyes. "Because I find the idea of the sexual coercion of a woman half my age to be morally repugnant."

"Oh." Hermione taps her fingers against her lips and stares unseeingly at her future father in law. "What happens if we don't do it?"

"The wards of the Manor and our other properties will not accept you. Your children will be considered illegitimate and neither you nor they will be able to access the family vault at Gringotts…" He tails off uncomfortably.

"There's more?"

"It's just a rumour." He fiddles with his still undone cuffs. "As far as I know no one has ever refused to observe Primae Noctis so who knows what the side effects are?

"But what do you think might happen?" Hermione presses.

"They say that any offspring will be born a Squib."

Hermione stares at him in silence. She doesn't really care about Draco's money and she has no desire to set foot in Malfoy Manor ever again. But she has promised Draco a child. And she had assumed that child would be magical. That it would go through life experiencing none of the hardship and prejudice she had borne. But a squib? She is under no illusions, in her eyes being a squib would be worse than being born a Muggle. She looks across at Lucius who is not quite able to meet her eyes.

"Fine, I'll do it."

 **A/N - Believe me it gets even more ridiculous...**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Oh my goodness you guys! Thank you so much for the lovely response. I'm awake at all hours of the day and night with the asshole baby and getting a notification on my phone at 3 am to tell me somebody has followed my story really raises my spirits. The baby is completely unappreciative. It's lovely to see so many of my old friends reviewing - I genuinely missed you all.**

 **Just a brief word about the chapter ahead. I got a snippy review for Masterchef asking if I really expected readers to find Lucius attractive the way I was portraying him in that story. The honest answer was I hadn't thought about it. I love taking people's ideas on board, but I suppose I try to write the stories I want to read. I like exploring Lucius in different ways and sex god Lucius has been done to death...not saying I won't do it again some time, but for this story I've gone down a different route. Sorry if it's not to everyone's taste.**

 **Also I wrote most of this in an underground car park while the baby slept in her car seat. Then I edited it while she chewed my shoulder. I'm not the greatest editor at the best of times, but there are probably a lot of mistakes here.**

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She's going to have sex with Lucius Malfoy. Hermione gulps enthusiastically at her third glass of champagne. Lucius summoned two more bottles around the point she agreed to sleep with him. She's not sure if the dizziness she is currently experiencing is due to her impending inebriation or her impending deflowering. Either way, she is certain that a certain degree of alcoholic lubrication will be required in order for her to complete the job.

In all her wildest dreams she has never imagined her first, or indeed any, time with this man. With Draco she was fully prepared to lie back and think of England. She supposes there is no reason it should be any different with his father.

Going on aesthetics alone Lucius is the more appealing prospect. Draco is too skinny for Hermione's taste. The man still hasn't shaken off the last vestiges of boyishness. Lucius on the other hand wears his years of experience as comfortably as he does his elegant robes. He is bigger and broader than Draco; his shoulders pleasingly wide in contrast to his narrow waist. His hands are large, but elegant too and Hermione begins to imagine his ringed fingers tracing the intimate plains of her body. He has always terrified her, but she can't deny the patrician beauty of his stern face.

There is something deliciously and inherently wrong with the idea of sleeping with him. It gives Hermione a sort of sick thrill; the idea of being intimate with this man, this Death Eater. Will he hurt her? She should be afraid, but instead her body tightens in anticipation and she is forced to acknowledge a side of her sexuality of which she had previously been unaware.

He is older, worldly wise, experienced. Surely submitting to him can bring nothing but pleasure.

"I want to enjoy this." Her words seem to startle him and he looks across at her and frowns.

"I beg your pardon?"

"This." She steps closer to him gesturing to the space between their bodies. "My first time. I want to enjoy it. You have to _make_ me enjoy it."

He gulps and Hermione watches in fascination as he appears to choke on his own Adam's apple. She is touched by his reticence. She knows it has nothing to do with his own marriage; he and Narcissa are amicably divorced. Perhaps he is holding back because of her blood status? She considers this for a fraction of a moment before discarding it. The most likely answer is that his inherent chivalry forbids him to force his attentions on an unwilling bed fellow.

"I think it could be enjoyable for both of us, don't you?" She places her hand on his chest her fingertips just brushing the skin exposed by the vee of his shirt.

He pulls away and turns to face out across the lawn where the preparations for her wedding to his son are well underway.

"Miss Granger...Hermione." His voice is thick. "I think you misunderstand…"

"Misunderstand what?" Hermione is distracted by the fit of his well-tailored trousers over his neat backside. She wonders if he works out. Draco has mentioned stables somewhere perhaps he rides...the thought of Lucius' muscular thighs clamped around the sweating flanks of a prancing horse does something strange to her insides. Reluctantly, she drags her thoughts out of the gutter. He's talking again.

"I fear you did not fully grasp the significance of the Primae Noctis ritual as it pertained to my own marriage."

"I did." Hermione bristles at this suggestion of ignorance. "Your father slept with Narcissa on your wedding day."

"Yes." Lucius pushes a hand through his platinum hair before immediately smoothing the rumpled locks. "But you must understand, my marriage to Narcissa was engineered purely for political and dynastic reasons. Any intimacy between us would have been solely for procreation."

Hermione frowns as she tries to interpret the meaning behind his flowery speech.

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand…"

Lucius spins around to face her, and Hermione takes a step back. The look on his face is one of pure anguish.

"After our wedding," he forces the words from between clenched teeth, "Narcissa chose to wait and see if she were pregnant before becoming intimate with me." His face has returned to its habitual haughty mask, but two spots of colour have bloomed on his pale cheeks.

"Oh." A sneaking suspicion begins to dawn on Hermione, but it can't be, surely he's not saying…

"Draco..?"

"I love that boy as if he were my own." Suddenly he is the Death Eater Hermione remembers from her childhood and she recoils a little from the ferocity of his snarl. "You will not speak of this to Draco, do you understand me?"

"Yes of course I won't." She shakes her head. "It's really none of my business. I'm flattered by your honesty, but I don't understand why you're telling me any of this?"

"Merlin's beard!" He clutches his head in both hands. "Are you being deliberately obtuse? I thought you were famed for your intellect?"

"I…" Hermione stammers, she is completely lost.

"Following the Primae Noctis ritual Narcissa became pregnant with Draco. There was no need for intimacy between us. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?" He stares at her wide eyed, his chest heaving with exertion.

Hermione stares back. She feels her jaw drop as she eventually puts the pieces of the puzzle together.

"You're...you're a...you're a virgin?" she whispers the question as if someone else might hear.

Wordlessly she holds out her champagne flute for a refill before she sinks down on a chaise lounge by the window.

"How old are you?" She asks faintly.

He doesn't speak for long enough that Hermione thinks he is refusing to answer. "I'm fifty."

"Right." She gulps at her drink. "Didn't it ever occur to you to have sex with someone else? I mean you're an attractive man, you could have…"

"I made a vow to be faithful to my wife." His voice is frosty and Hermione takes a mouthful of champagne to cover her discomfort.

"Yes...sorry...of course." She can't let it lie. "But you and Narcissa have been divorced for years…"

"I didn't ask for your analysis of the situation." His voice is like ice and she can't really blame him. She's embarrassed enough at still being a virgin at the ripe old age of twenty five.

"Right." She takes another slug of champagne. At this rate she'll pass out and miss the event entirely.

"I apologise," Lucius says stiffly. "I am perhaps a little over sensitive when it comes to my lack of experience."

"I completely understand that." Hermione feels herself beginning to gush. "It's terribly frustrating being the only one of your friends never to have had sex. These last few years I've felt like some sort of pariah; as if there's something terribly wrong with me and everybody else is enjoying this big secret I'm not allowed to know.

"Quite," Lucius says without emotion. "Personally, I imagine the act to be much overrated."

"Do you think so?" Hermione looks at him with disappointment. "I suppose I was still hoping for something earth shattering." Lucius looks at her as if she had said she were hoping for the moon to turn pink and land in her back garden. They lapse into an uncomfortable silence.

"Should we get on with it then?" Hermione glances at the clock over the mantle. There are still several hours to go before the ceremony, but she has no desire to sit in awkward silence for the rest of the day.

"Very well." Lucius gives a heavy sigh and rises to his feet. "Shall you take the bathroom first or shall I?"

Hermione frowns. Is this some pureblood cleansing ritual of which she is unaware? She only showered a few hours ago. "What for?" she asks as she braces herself for his condescension. He does not disappoint.

"For disrobing, of course."

Of course. "Won't we undress each other?"

Again, she sees the impenetrable facade of Lucius Malfoy crack just a little.

"Is that the _done thing_?"

She shrugs helplessly. "I don't know. That's what they do on TV though."

"TeeVee?" Lucius looks confused. It's almost endearing.

"It's a Muggle thing.

"It seems rather overfamiliar to me."

"What does?"

"Removing each other's clothing."

"It's a lot less familiar than you sticking your penis in my vagina."

They lapse into silence for a few moments until Hermione blurts, "This is silly."

She can almost see his hackles rise.

"I can assure you I find nothing foolish in a ritual as old as Hogwarts, nor in my inexperience."

"Not that." Hermione waves aside his concerns. "It's silly we're making such a big deal of this. It's just sex. People do it every day."

"They do?" Lucius looks doubtful.

"They do," Hermione affirms, unsure which of them she is trying to convince. "We're two intelligent people. We should be able to give a good account of ourselves.

"We should?" Lucius continues to look unconvinced.

Hermione braces herself. Clearly she is the one who will have to take the initiative. Taking a deep breath she steps deliberately forward into Lucius' personal space.

"It really won't be that difficult." She attempts to convince them both. "We should start with kissing."

She reaches up and places her hands on his shoulders. He smells amazing; warm, spicy, and male. She wants to bury her face in his neck and take huge lungfuls of his unique scent. She refrains. It is difficult to ignore the fact that he has frozen statue still in her embrace. She reaches up balancing on the tips of her toes in order to reach his mouth. Their lips are millimetres apart. The brush of his breath is warm against her face and heat radiates from his body which dwarfs hers. She parts her lips in anticipation of their kiss.

"I really don't think this is necessary." Lucius takes hold of her upper arms in order to prevent the trajectory of her lips toward his.

"But you said my baby would be a squib."

"I don't mean the intercourse, obviously there's no avoiding that, but there's no need for fripperies such as kissing."

"Right." Hermione twists the enormous engagement ring on her finger a few times, and tries not to feel offended.

Lucius has moved away from her and she regards him closely as she considers her options.

"Do you have a particular objection to kissing?" she finally asks.

Lucius scowls. "Of course not, but I am at a loss as to why it is necessary in order for us to fulfil Primae Noctis. Surely it's quite demeaning enough that you have to have intercourse with me without you engaging in other acts of intimacy."

"You do know I was going to have sleep with Draco don't you? If it makes you feel any better I'm more attracted to you than I am him."

"What?" Lucius looks truly scandalised. "You mean you are not in love with my son?"

"Of course not." Hermione had assumed this would have been discussed. What did the Malfoy's talk about around the dinner table? "Our marriage is an convenient arrangement in which the mutual benefits outweigh the slightly unpleasant prospect of sex."

Lucius looks less shocked by this revelation. Hermione supposes that arranged marriage is a common idea in pureblood circles.

"I presume you agreed to provide an heir as your end of the bargain."

Hermione nods. "Which is fine. I want children anyway. Although not yet which is yet another reason why this ritual is so ridiculous. I'm jammed up to my eyeballs with Muggle contraceptives. There's absolutely no chance of me conceiving any time soon." She cocks her head to one side whilst she considers the implications of what she has just said. "Mind you, that still means I'm going to have to sleep with Draco at some point." She pushes the thought to one side. There's no point in dwelling on future unpleasantness.

She lapses into silence aware that nothing she has said seems to have made Lucius feel any better.

"Are you gay?" The question escapes before she can engage the appropriate filters.

"What on earth makes you think that?" he demands.

"Well, it just makes sense. Your position in society makes you feel that you can't come out. You could be secretly relieved that your father did the dirty work with Narcissa and, whilst you are not free to pursue your own interests, you at least don't have to force yourself to sleep with woman. You can tell me if you are, nobody should have to hide their sexuality."

"I am not gay!"

She backs away a little at his ferocity.

"The opportunity for intercourse has simply not arisen, and I have not sought it out. Is that so difficult to understand? We are not all driven by our base urges, you know."

"I accept that." Hermione nods. "But you are going to have to do it now, there's no getting away from it."

"I'm aware of that."

"In which case don't you want to at least do it properly."

"I didn't know I was doing it improperly."

She sighs. "What I mean is we should try to enjoy it; make it as pleasurable for each other as possible. So that even if you never do it again, and I only do it with Draco with my eyes shut at least we'll have had one memorable experience." She looks pleadingly up at him. She's not quite sure when this became so important to her. In the space of less than an hour she's gone from being resigned to enthusiastic. If she's going to have a chance to sleep with Lucius Malfoy she wants it to be perfect. He looks over at her his brow furrowed in thought.

"I really don't understand you." He finally admits.

"No one does."

"I'm still not entirely sure what you are asking of me and I expect you will have to take the lead and use your experience of the TeeVee, but I can see your logic." He takes a deep breath as if psyching himself up. "I am willing to do as you suggest."

"Right." Lucius has donned a small pair of reading glasses and summoned a parchment and quill. He is seated at the dressing table looking as business-like as it is possible to do whilst surrounded by hair brushes and perfume diffusers. His appearance is rather formidable and reminds Hermione of the one time she attended a Ministry meeting in which Lucius was present. He had left with the trade agreement the Ministry had planned to rescind extended for a further five years under vastly more favourable terms. He was not a man Hermione had every particularly wished to negotiate with.

In comparison to Hermione Lucius now looks much happier.

"I propose that we each set forth our primary objectives." He divides the scroll into two columns. "Where these are mutually achievable we should prioritise them. Where they are not we will negotiate." He looks up at Hermione over the top of his glasses. "Agreed?"

"Yes, fine." Hermione is still not convinced that hammering out a watertight contract is the way to have toe curling sex, but she's pleased to see Lucius looking so much happier and he's going to have to shag her eventually.

"My primary aim is to fulfil the dictate of Primae Noctis." He makes a note on the scroll. "I am therefore obliged to…to" he tails off and the twin spots of colour reappear on his cheeks.

"Ejaculate inside me?" Hermione helpfully supplies.

"Do you think you might be able to moderate your language?" Lucius snaps, as he frantically makes notes on the parchment.

"What? Why?"

"It's exceedingly vulgar, that's why." He is still refusing to meet her eyes.

Hermione bites back a retort. "How would you like me to put it?" she asks instead.

"For example you might say 'reach your completion' rather than 'ejaculate inside me.'" He mimics her voice with a disturbing degree of accuracy. Hermione rubs at her forehead.

"So you want me to talk as if I'm in a historical romance novel?"

"I just wish you didn't have to be so...blunt." Lucius is still making notes, or possibly doodling. Hermione decides to concede the point.

"Fine. I will make an attempt to moderate my language." She bites her lip for a moment as a thought pops into her head. "But in exchange I want you to kiss me." Lucius purses his lips.

"Fine." He makes a note on the parchment and Hermione thinks she could have asked for something more.

"I want to have at least two orgasms," she states.

Lucius gives a heavy sigh and rolls his eyes.

"Sorry, sorry." Hermione bites her lip again and thinks hard. "I'd like to reach the pinnacle of ecstasy at least twice." She looks triumphantly at him. Lucius is still frowning.

"I have been led to believe that the female orgasm is a myth," he says apologetically. "To be honest, Hermione I'm not sure the experience will be very enjoyable for you at all."

Hermione lets out an inelegant snort. "You're not getting out of it that easily. Two orgasms, Malfoy and I'm not doing all the work myself." She taps the parchment until he writes it down.

"Now you ask for something."

Lucius thinks for several moments. "I'd like you to keep your eyes closed."

"What?" Hermione stares at him. "Why on earth would you want that?"

"I would be less uncomfortable if I weren't under scrutiny."

"I'm not going to scrutinise you." Hermione twists her engagement ring again. "But I would like to look at you. How on earth am I going to imagine you every time I have se...make love with Draco if I don't know what you look like?"

Lucius looks taken aback. "Are you really going to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Imagine me when you're…" he waves a hand expressively.

"Oh that, yes, probably." Hermione feels a blush steal across her cheeks.

Lucius' face settles into smug; an expression Hermione is familiar with. She almost breathes a sigh of relief; embarrassed and awkward Lucius is not someone she is used to.

"Fine," he concedes. "You can keep your eyes open."

"Good." Hermione glances at the parchment. "Things still look a little one sided. What else do you want? And if it's to keep your clothes on forget it, it's not happening."

"I don't know." His face is shuttered.

"You must. Surely you've imagined being intimate. What did you think about then?"

Lucius is avoiding her eyes again. "I do not wish to take liberties with your person."

"That's the whole point," Hermione almost shouts.

"I'm inviting you to take liberties. I _want_ you to take them. I'll certainly be taking liberties with you!"

Lucius' eyes crash into hers. His pupils are blown wide and he looks terrified. "I want to touch your breasts," he says defiantly. As if irrevocably drawn they both glance down at Hermione's breasts which are heaving as impressively as A cups can.

"That's a given. How are you going to give me two orgasms if you don't touch my breasts?" She snatches the parchment from his hands and scrawls on it. "I want you to give me oral se- perform cunniling- urgh I can't think of a euphemism…"

"It's fine, I'll do it." Lucius leaps to his feet and snatches the scroll from her hands. "I want you to suck my cock"

Everything freezes. Lucius' jaw has dropped, presumably in shock over his own audacity and vulgarity. His words hang a tangible entity in the air between them. Hermione isn't sure who is more shocked her or Lucius, but she knows without a shadow of a doubt that the time for talking is over. She takes back the, by now rather crumpled, parchment, and flings it over her shoulder before she hurls herself bodily at Lucius.

* * *

 **A/N And a round of applause goes to Rosie AKA the Artful Scribbler who totally guessed that Lucius was still carrying his V card...actually I think it was her idea...**

 **Oh and yeah...it's not finished yet...sorry...**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Oh my gosh you guys! Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews and follows. Even my husband is impressed by my stats (I don't think he understands that I don't earn any money from this.** )

 **The baby continues her onslaught on my mental health refusing to sleep or be put down...this chapter was therefore written on my phone. I've done my best with editing but I'm so sorry if there are mistakes...or even worse I've used the same adjective twice in a row.**

It becomes apparent fairly rapidly that neither of them has a clue what they are doing. The force of Hermione's initial onslaught barrels her into Lucius and their conjoined bodies ricochet off of tables and soft furnishings like a ball on a bagatelle board before Lucius manages to steady them. Hermione finds herself pinned against the wall, feet slightly off the ground and her hands fisted in Lucius' hair which feels exactly as good as it looks.

Their kissing is a complex tangle of lips and teeth. Hermione is sure she has bitten him at least once and her nose is tingling from an accidental head-butt. Despite their lack of finesse the experience is glorious. Every synapse in Hermione's body reports back to her brain in super quick time. The body is pressed against hers is hard and warm. The hair beneath her fingers is soft and silkily. The scent enfolding her is rich and intoxicating and the soft grunts of pleasure Lucius emits are like a symphony to her ears.

His lips slow and their crushing pressure is reduced as he gently lowers her to the ground. He pulls back a little and begins a more gentle exploration of the contours of her mouth. This is nothing like Hermione has ever experienced before. Hours of hormone-fuelled snogging with Ron cannot compare to this careful and detailed caress. In contrast to the rest of his body which is made up of hard planes, Lucius' lips are sinfully soft. He kisses nibbles and licks his way around Her mouth. His tongue flickers hesitantly at first and then with more confidence against hers and Hermione is utterly lost. This is without doubt the most sensual experience of her life.

They kiss for what seems like hours. She grinds her pelvis against his and is excited and relieved to feel the bulge of his arousal hot and hard against her belly. He wants her too. The thrill of conquest courses through her. He grows bolder. His lips move away from hers and travel down her neck, His tongue flickers behind her ear and Hermione hears herself whimper. She forces herself to release her death hold on his hair and carefully traces the jut of his cheekbones and the curve of his neck before she tentatively slides her fingers down to that point where his shirt is unbuttoned. His skin sears her fingertips.

Lucius has stopped kissing her. His head is bowed his forehead resting against hers. His breath comes in heavy pants. His eyes are open but heavy-lidded and drugged looking, He seems to struggle to find words.

"My back hurts."

Hermione had expected something a little more romantic. Perhaps some remark as to her ethereal beauty or how desirable she is, but she can't help but sympathise with his predicament. Since he placed her back on the ground he has been forced to stoop in order to accommodate their difference in height.

"We could try lying down." Her voice is breathy.

In unison they turn their heads to contemplate the enormous four-poster bed in which Hermione spent the previous night. It has become a living entity and neither of them knows if it is friend or foe.

"Very well." Lucius steps back a little and Hermione's whole being immediately mourns the loss of contact between them. Even though Lucius has taken her hand in his and is leading her toward the bed it is not enough, not nearly. They stand at the foot of the monstrous structure both looking uncertainly at it. Once more Hermione takes the initiative. She toes off her watered silk bridal shoes and clambers onto the bed, laying herself out like a sacrificial offering and gesturing for Lucius to join her. He hesitates and then removes his own shoes. Hermione stifles a giggle. There is something surreal about the idea of Lucius Malfoy in his stocking feet. He clearly feels that his dignity has been compromised; he scowls even as he crawls up the bed toward her.

At first he lies next to her. Long elegant fingers trace the sweep of her clavicle; they tremble slightly as they explore the exposed swell of her breasts. Hermione's eyes flutter shut and she bites her lip in anticipation unable to help herself from arching her back in silent encouragement of his questing fingers.

He appears not to understand her wordless plea. His fingers move away and tangle in her hair so he can bring her lips to his once more. The kissing soon becomes heated. Their bodies are pressed together from lips to toes until Hermione bravely grabs a handful of Lucius' shirt and pulls him bodily on top of her. They both gasp as his weight pins her to the mattress and the kissing becomes more frenzied as they grind against each other.

"What next?" Lucius has propped himself on one elbow. His cheeks are flushed and his lips swollen from her kisses. He is looking wildly around the room and Hermione realises he is searching for the parchment.

"The disrobing I think." She smiles shyly. "You'll need to help me with my buttons.

Lucius moves off her and she sits up and turns around to expose the row of tiny silk-covered buttons along her spine. She almost sobs with frustration as she imagines how long it will take to undo them all. To her surprise she feels a whisper of magic against her skin and the dress gapes forward.

"Magic."

"It has its uses." Lucius is behind her now his fingers tracing across the exposed skin of her back, gathering her hair to one side and pressing against the exposed skin of her neck."

"Stand up." He helps her off the bed and stays behind her as he gently peels the long sleeves of her dress down her arms. The fabric clings for a moment on her hips before it gives up and the entire heavy gown falls to the floor. Leaving Hermione in her bridal underwear and stockings.

"Turn around."

Hermione is suddenly aware of the imperfections of her body, of the reason she chose a high necked and long-sleeved gown. Of the red letters carved into her forearm and the puckered starburst of Dolohov's curse across her chest. She clutches' her arms across her chest all bravado forgotten.

"You are exquisite." Lucius' fingers stroke along the base of her spine, skirting around the top of her white silk knickers. He presses his back against her front and gently pulls her arms away from her chest, stroking along their length. His thumb caresses her scars and she feels him exhale heavily against her hair.

"I am sorry."

Hermione has received so many apologies. Draco and Narcissa apologised to her on sight for almost a year after the war ended. She has received hundreds of letters from Death Eaters and their supporters, reformed or otherwise begging her forgiveness. But this; Lucius' simple, heartfelt apology whispered into her hair somehow means more than any other. She braces herself for his reaction and turns around.

At first, she thinks he is staring at her scar it radiates out from the centre of her sternum like an ugly supernova, but as he wets his lips and gives a low groan of desire she realises she is quite mistaken. He is staring, gawping even, not at her scar but at her breasts which are helpfully pushed up for his delectation by a bra so enhancing it could probably be used as scaffolding.

He continues to stare as she steps closer and begins to unbutton his shirt, her fingers not quite steady. She is grateful that he allows her to complete her task without the interference of magic. Hermione focuses on the inch by inch exposure of his broad, sparsely, haired chest fighting the urge to lean forward and fasten her teeth around one of his pectorals. When she is finished she pushes the shirt off of his shoulders and runs her hands down his arms enjoying the feel of smooth skin and taut muscle beneath her fingers. Her hand passes over the faded dark mark and he stiffens slightly and then relaxes as she ignores the tattoo and begins to unbutton his belt.

His trousers are impossibly tented by his unrelenting erection and Hermione's small fingers falter with the stiff leather buckle. He gently moves them away and undoes the belt and the top button of his trousers himself. Hermione makes swift work of the other buttons enjoying the way he gasps every time her fingers brush against him. He steps out of his trousers and quickly bends to remove his socks. Then they face each other, each clad only in their underwear. Lucius is beautiful. Smooth and firm and preternaturally pale. Hermione wants to consume him but she doesn't quite know where to start.

Apparently Lucius is as lost as she. He moves a little closer, so the tips of her breasts almost touch her chest.

"What do we do now?"

Hermione swallows. "Kissing," she says with a confidence she doesn't feel. "Whenever we're lost we go back to kissing."

She is surprised when Lucius cups her cheek and kisses her with a gentleness she would not have thought him capable of. Mindful of his back she reaches up on tiptoe to return the kiss and then, feeling a sudden rush of bravado she pushes him bodily back onto the bed.

Lucius doesn't complain as she straddles him, for the time being keeping her groin away from his. He lies back submissively as she rakes her gaze up and down his body before giving in to temptation and biting his chest. He gives a yelp of pain and surprise followed by a groan as she soothes the damaged area with her tongue.

"You didn't put biting on the parchment." His voice is throaty.

"Do you object?" She's kissing his neck now and nibbling at the line of his jaw.

"No." His hands settle on her hips. "But I definitely get one of my requests now." He reaches up to cup her breasts and Hermione groans. It's not enough, she wants bare skin against bare skin, she wants was exploration…stimulation.

"These are beautiful." Lucius lifts himself up and presses his lips against the curve of her breast. His skin burns hers. Then his hands snake around her back. "How do I take this off?" He fumbles with the clasp of her bra before Hermione helps him and it drops to the bed. He takes his time and cups her breasts almost reverently before his long fingers explore her nipples circling the areolae before gently pinching the tips until she gasps with pleasure. When he leans forward to take one of her nipples in his mouth Hermione lets out a wail so loud it surprises both of them.

"Should I stop?" Lucius looks up from beneath his shuttered lids.

"No, no, please don't." His mouth closes around her again even before she has stopped speaking. Hermione clutches his hair again her nails raking against his scalp as he sucks hard.

He rolls her then, flipping her effortlessly until she is the one beneath him. He trails confident kisses across her chest and abdomen until his tongue is lapping at her navel. She moans and squirms, fairly certain of where this is heading and feeling a heady mixture of anticipation and fear. She obligingly lifts up her hips as Lucius tugs at the waistband of her knickers and before she knows what is happening she feels cool air across her exposed skin. She screws her eyes tightly closed suddenly capitulating to Lucius' wishes. She can't help but be a little embarrassed at the thought of him examining her most private of areas.

Nothing happens for a few moments and then she feel the brush of his fingers against her inner thighs. She breathes in sharply once, and again as his lips place kiss after kiss against the sensitive skin there. She squirms and wriggles unconsciously trying to maneuverer him closer to her center. Then she feels it. His tongue laps hesitantly along the lips of her sex. It is whisper soft the first time, but as she cries out her pleasure he repeats the motion again and again, and then he is inside her the thick muscle filling her as she has never been filled before. She rolls her head against the pillows lightheaded from holding her breath. She has dreamed of this. Has fantasised so many times what it might like to be pleasured this way, but the reality is so much more than she could ever have imagined.

He has moved north now and is exploring the tender flesh around her clitoris. Hermione waits breathless with anticipation. Her patience is rewarded when his tongue swipes across the sensitive bundle of nerves by design or accident she isn't sure, but she moans loudly in appreciation. Lucius is nothing if not responsive. He licks again at the same spot appearing to catalogue his results as he repeats the action, again and again, one large hand coming up to hold still her hips which have begun to buck of their own accord.

Hermione can feel her orgasm beginning to build deep inside her. The tingling feeling begins to grow and she breathes shallowly anticipating the climax, she falls silent her entire being focussed on the strive for pleasure, her fingers tense against the sheets. Abruptly Lucius ceases in his ministrations.

"I fear I may require some guidance." She can feel his breath against her heated sex.

"Guidance…?" she pants.

"You have stopped responding."

"Do it again," she wails. "Exactly what you were doing before, but don't stop please God don't stop…" She continues to implore him as he resumes his ministrations and within seconds her orgasm rips through her and she screams her pleasure and surprise as her taught flesh contracts again and again. Lucius continues lapping gently at her tender nub until she pushes his head away.

"No, please, that's enough."

Cautiously, she opens her eyes. Lucius his leaning over her his eyes still fixed on her still pulsing sex. Slowly, he raises his eyes to hers. "Not a myth then," he says with some satisfaction.

"I told you so." Hermione props herself up on her elbows. "That was the best thing that's ever happened to me," she announces.

Lucius raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

She nods. "Let me show you." She lunges toward him, taking him by surprise and tumbling him sideways onto the bed. She grips his boxers and pulls them down before she can lose her nerve. It abruptly deserts her anyway as she is confronted with the contents of his trousers.

"Oh." She stares at his erect, leaking member in consternation.

"Is there something wrong?" Lucius looks almost as worried as she is.

"Yes, no…It's a lot bigger than I was expecting." Hermione frowns. "I'm not sure what I'll be able to do with that."

They both stare at his penis. It seems unconcerned by their attention and continues to strain hopefully against Lucius' flat stomach.

"You don't have to do anything," Lucius says almost apologetically. "I mean, I will need to…you know…but I don't expect anything more."

"Absolutely not," Hermione says staunchly. We had a deal and I'm not reneging on our agreement. "Just give me a minute."

She leans closer to his crotch. She has never been so up close and personal with a penis before, but she suspects that this is not a novice sized model. Hesitantly, she reaches out and strokes the pads of her fingers along its length. Lucius gasps. She glances up at him. He is lying back against the pillows his eyes scrunched tightly closed. She closes a fist around him. Despite the fact that she's been grinding against him for the last half hour she is surprised by how hard he feels. She slides her hand experimentally up and down watching Lucius' face as she does so. Her Gryffindor pride has raised its head. Lucius mastered her in a matter of minutes; she will not be outdone by him.

A bead of moisture is welling up from the slit at the head of his cock and she laps at it with the tip of her tongue.

"Fuck!"

She sits back on her heels, delighted by his expletive. "Please try to moderate your language, Mr. Malfoy," she says primly.

"I'm sorry." He is beyond appreciating irony. "Please do that again." She does several times until he is groaning and thrusting against her hand. Finally, she opens her mouth as wide as she can and closes it over the top of his penis. He tastes clean and slightly salty and Hermione finds the experience not unpleasant at all. That is until her jaw starts to ache. Still, she perseveres hollowing her cheeks and sucking as hard as she can. She emulates Lucius' earlier action and holds down his hips to prevent him from thrusting. His whole body is strung tight as he writhes against the sheets and she feels her own arousal peak again as she revels in her power over this usually controlled and controlling man. She ignores the ache in her cheeks and swirls her tongue around the head flicking over the tiny hole at the tip.

"Stop!" His command takes her by surprise. "Hermione, please stop…please."

She responds to the desperation in his voice and pulls away looking up at him in concern not sure what she has done wrong.

"The ritual." He is panting his chest rising and falling rapidly, beads of sweat gathering in the hollow at the base of his neck. "Doing it in your mouth doesn't count."

"Oh." Hermione sits back on her heels feeling extremely proud of herself. "I did well then?"

"Better than well." Lucius leans back against the pillows and covers his eyes with one hand.

"Are you alright?"

He looks wrung out. "Yes."

They stare at each other for a few minutes before Lucius sits up and pulls her into his arms. "If we don't know what to do we should go back to kissing," he informs her before bringing his lips down onto hers.

He tastes familiar and foreign all at once. Hermione knows she is tasting herself on him and sucks his tongue eagerly into her mouth tasting their shared experience. They are both trembling as Lucius pushes her gently backward and positions himself between her thighs.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," She wonders if she looks as frightened as he does.

He fumbles between their bodies and she resists the urge to giggle as the blunt head of his cock presses futilely against her inner thigh.

"Here." She moves her hand between them and guides him into place. She keeps her eyes fixed on his face as he sinks into her. The sight is almost enough to distract her from the pain of his incursion. His brow is furrowed, his jaw set and he breathes out slowly as he moves forward into her. She can't hold back a low moan as he stretches her beyond anything she has previously experienced. He stills instantly.

"I'm hurting you."

"It's ok." She grips his shoulders. "It feels good too, just wait a minute." She closes her eyes and wills her body to relax. Then she feels his lips against her neck, he laps at the sensitive skin behind her ear and journeys down to nip at her collarbone before gently caressing her lips with his. She is busy marveling at how quick a study he is when she realises that, while the pain has not gone, it is much reduced and she is now beginning to enjoy the stretch of him inside her.

"You can move now," she gasps against his mouth.

"Oh thank Merlin."

It's only as he begins to move that she realises how tense he has become. The arms braced on either side of her head are shaking from his restraint. He sets up a punishing, irregular rhythm and Hermione struggles to keep up with him.

"Slow down." She strokes her arms across his back trying to gentle him as if he were Crookshanks after a, particularly exciting run-in with next door's tomcat. She lifts her hips trying to meet his downstroke with her own up.

Hermione is struggling to keep her eyes open. There is so much sensation. Lucius inside her and on top of her. His scent overwhelming her. She wants to see his face but she needs to shut out something or she's going to explode.

Finally, after what seems like an aeon of discordant motion they find a mutually satisfying rhythm. Hermione's hips rise to meet Lucius' thrusts, and they move in glorious harmony. She feels immense pride. She hates to be bad at things. She cannot stand to fail, and now she knows she is succeeding. _They are succeeding_.

"We're doing it." She looks up at him. "We're actually doing it."

His rhythm doesn't falter as he ungrits his teeth for long enough to give her a triumphant smile.

"Do you think it's always this good?"

"I don't know." She sighs softly as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, sending arrows of pleasure straight to her core. "I don't think it can be otherwise people would never get anything done."

"Mmhmm." Lucius' expression turns pained.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes." His teeth are gritted once more. "It's just you're very tight and this is a lot more pleasurable than I expected. I'm not sure I can continue much longer."

"Oh."

"Do you think you might…"

"Do I think I might what?"

"You know...reach completion?"

"Oh." She thinks for a moment. "I don't think so. Not that this isn't lovely, but I think I need more stimulation."

He looks perturbed.

"Don't worry about it." She reaches up and runs her hands over his shoulders enjoying the silky smooth texture of his skin.

"We had a deal." There is a hint of steel in his grey eyes. He shifts his weight and slips a hand between their bodies.

"What are you…? Oh!"

He fumbles a little, but much to Hermione's surprise he locates her clitoris and begins to rub it in steady circles. The technique is very similar to that which he employed with his tongue. Hermione is deeply impressed at his transferable skills.

She closes her eyes and buries her fingers in his hair. The pleasure is building once more. Every stroke of him inside her seems to stoke the fire his fingers are kindling a little higher. She is almost afraid of her orgasm this time, and as it builds she clings to him and whimpers incoherently. Then it hits her. Wave after wave of pleasure subsumes her as she contracts helplessly around him. Lucius lets out an inarticulate growl and his movements become jerky and stilted. Hermione can feel his cock pulsing as he empties himself within her.

Locked together, they stare wide-eyed at each other.

"It's done." Lucius rolls off of her and onto the bed. Hermione expects him to pull away, but instead, he reaches out and draws her body against his.

 **A/N - Phew! That was quite tough to write. I really hope it was O.K. I'm am currently leading a tortured life surviving only on black coffee and your reviews...**

 **...still not finished...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N once again thank your for your enthusiastic responses. I can't help but re-iterate how much the notification e-mails lift my spirits as they pop up on my phone throughout the day. The baby actually slept last night so I can no longer blame my mistakes on her - the comma splices are all my fault...**

 **The observant among you may have noticed that this story is a bit longer than the promised two chapters. I think it should be finished in another three... then I can start my amazing original Nanowrimo novel which will make me my fortune... or just start a new Lumione!**

 **Trigger warning: This chapter contains mention of previous rape/sexual abuse - very minor but I wanted to flag it up.**

* * *

She is cuddling Lucius Malfoy. In many ways, Hermione finds this harder to come to terms with than the plethora of carnal acts in which they have just engaged. She barely had time to develop any expectations, but if she had it would not have been this. She rests her head against the unfamiliar surface of his broad chest and listens to the steading pounding of his heart.

She is relaxed and sleepy. In fact, her post-coital glow is so extreme she can barely keep her eyes open. She tries and fails to stifle a yawn. She glances up at Lucius expecting to see a look of lazy satiation. Instead, she is surprised to see him staring at the ceiling. His expressive eyes are narrowed and a muscle flickers in his cheek. She tenses a little. Perhaps he's not quite as happy with what has transpired as she is.

"Thank you." She moves her fingers against his chest. She is just flexing them. She is certainly absolutely not stroking him.

"What on earth for?" His expression is incredulous.

"For making the whole experience so pleasurable." She gives a little shiver. "It could have been horrible. _You_ could have been horrible, but you weren't. Do you think it was like this for Narcissa?" As soon as the words are out she curses her motor mouth. Why does she insist on allowing herself to ask every question which enters her head? If she weren't already aware of her _faux pas_ Lucius has gone stiff beneath her. His fingers, which had been resting lightly on the small of her back, are now digging into her sensitive skin.

"No, it was nothing like this for Narcissa." He exhales slowly, and she feels him forcing himself to relax. "My father was not a kind man. However little you may think of me, he was ten times worse. Had he been kinder to Narcissa she might have been more willing to engage in a physical relationship with me. As it was, I believe it took her years before she was willing to be intimate with anybody and certainly not someone who looked exactly like her abuser.

"Oh." Hermione shudders a little and unconsciously nestles closer. Narcissa Malfoy is the last person she might have imagined herself feeling sympathy for, but she can feel it slipping between the chinks of her armour. "You do realise that just makes me more grateful to you, not less?"

Lucius does not appear flattered by her words. "There is really no need to thank me for not being a brutal rapist." He looks down at her and then away. "It occurs to me that since you have entered our world you have experienced nothing but persecution and prejudice. Even now, when the war is won you are forced to tie yourself to a man you do not love and to engage in sexual relations with one you hate in order to secure your place."

"You're being melodramatic." She settles herself closer to him. She is determined to enjoy his physical proximity even if he insists on engaging in a difficult philosophical debate. "Do you really think it's any better in the Muggle world?"

"I don't know. Many sympathisers portray the Muggle world as a utopia of equality and kindness."

"Ha." Her laugh is mirthless. "The Muggle world is not that far removed from this one. Woman are still not treated equally to men. Arranged and forced marriage is common in many cultures. Even in countries which consider themselves progressive there is still a huge disparity in wages and career opportunities between the sexes. Nothing that has happened to me is any different from what I might have encountered had I chosen to return to the Muggle world. Admittedly, Primae Noctis doesn't exist in Britain anymore, but marrying or swapping sexual favours in exchange for progression in your chosen career? That sort of thing still happens all the time." She looks up at his stern, unyielding face. "And I don't hate you," she adds rather belatedly.

Lucius gives a bitter smile. "That, at least, is something.

They are silent again and Lucius relaxes against her. His thumb is rubbing small circles on Hermione's lower back and she emits a little hum of pleasure. Of their own volition her fingers stroke across his chest soothing the slight bruise she left earlier. Without thinking her hand glides across his nipple and he inhales sharply. She looks up unsure what has caused his reaction and is surprised to see the blazing intensity in his slate coloured eyes. This time her movement is deliberate. She traces her fingernail around his hardened nipple.

"Miss Granger." His voice is hoarse.

"What happened to Hermione?" Her other hand slides down his flank to rest on his hip. It's a bold move, but she doesn't care. It seems that Lucius is blind to all but the most blatant of advances.

"Hermione…we don't have to…the ritual is complete…"

"I know." For what seems like the hundredth time that day she throws caution to the wind and reaches up to place her lips against his. He is slow to respond, as if waiting to see if she really means to kiss him. It is not until she rolls them so she straddling him again, with her naked body pressed fully against his, that his mouth opens and his lips begin to move against hers.

Whilst his brain may have had some reservations regarding a repeat performance his penis does not appear to have received the same memo. It is rapidly expanding beneath her and Lucius' hips rise, voluntarily or not, to press his hardness against her belly.

She would never have thought that either of them could become aroused again so quickly. Her whole body is tingling. Her breasts feel hot and heavy and she rubs them against Lucius' chest in an attempt to provide some sort of relief. Angling her hips, she brings her drenched sex into contact with his erection. They groan in unison.

Had Hermione stopped to consider what she was doing she might have been embarrassed, but she is already too far gone to act on anything more than instinct. She begins to move and rubs her slick folds against the hard heat of Lucius' cock. His hands came up to rest on her hips, but he makes no effort to interfere as she works herself back and forth feeling her arousal build as the shaft of his penis rubs against her clitoris. She is panting, sweat trickles down her back and she is unable to prevent the harsh gasping cries which emit from her mouth. Realising that her head is aching from the effort of screwing them closed she opens her eyes wide and realises that Lucius is staring at her with nothing short of awe on his beautiful face.

She continues to rub herself against him, helpless in the face of her passion. She is a slave to the delicious friction she is creating. Her thighs start to tremble as the pleasure builds. It spirals down from her belly and she goes rigid and buries her face in Lucius' neck as she begins to come. She sobs with pleasure, her whole body shaking as she rides out the contractions. Lucius's hands are gentle on her back and shoulders and when she finally raises her head he strokes her sweat drenched hair back from her face.

"That was" —he licks his lips— "that was the most arousing thing I have ever seen."

She lets out a breathy laugh. "It was quite arousing for me too."

He shifts slightly beneath.

"May I?"

It would seem rude to deny him after she has used him solely for her own pleasure. "Of course." She reaches between them and positions him once more at her entrance. Their eyes lock as she sinks down onto him. She winces a little, both at his size and because she is now tender from their previous exertions. Bracing her hands on his chest she sits up and begins to move as best she can. Lucius' hands return to her hips and he begins to cautiously thrust against her.

It is not all plain sailing. Hermione is sore and over sensitised from her orgasm. Twice, Lucius' thrusts hit her cervix and she yelps in pain and surprise. Once, she moves too enthusiastically and he slips out entirely, resulting in apologetic fumbling on both of their parts. But, just as before, they find their rhythm; their bodies synchronising in perfect harmony. She feels him growing impossibly harder and larger inside of her. His thrusts become irregular and desperate and his fingers bruise her thighs as he clings on for dear life. He cries out as he comes and shudders beneath her, his hips still rocking back and forth even as Hermione collapses forward onto his chest. She is completely exhausted.

"Do you have to marry Draco?" He is still softening inside her as he asks the question.

"Do you know how much you've spent on my wedding?" She buries her face against his neck and inhales his unique scent, now mingled with sweat and sex.

"I do and I don't care. I would spend the same again in order to prevent it."

"Because you object to my blood status?" She stiffens against.

He catches her chin in his hand and forces her to look at him. "No," he says emphatically, "because I object to him having something I want."

"Oh." She has to tear her eyes away from the intensity in his gaze. It's overwhelming. "Well the contract is signed and there are almost a thousand guests on their way, so I'd say yes, I do have to marry Draco.

He huffs in a manner Hermione secretly finds endearing.

"I don't understand how you can be so blasé after what has transpired between us today."

"I'm not being blasé." She snares a blanket with her foot and pulls it over them. She wishes they could stay cocooned like this forever. "Listen, Lucius, se— making love can be very confusing for people. It can even invoke feelings which aren't necessarily real."

"Don't be so patronising." He repositions the blanket so it covers his feet too. "You have engaged in intercourse exactly as many times as I have. You are no more of an authority on post-coital emotional upheaval than I."

Hermione's refrains from sighing. "I'm not purporting to be an expert. I'm just saying that just because we had amazing se— I mean just because we shared a passionate encounter doesn't mean you are justified in coming over all Mrs. Robinson on me."

Lucius thinks for a moment. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Oh. Well, I suppose you wouldn't. Mrs. Robinson is a glamorous older woman in a Muggle story. A young man has a passionate affair with her but then falls in love with her daughter. At the end of the story, the daughter finds out that he's slept with her mother and leaves him to marry someone else. The story ends with the young man banging on a window of the church trying to stop the wedding. It's not very dignified"

A furrow appears between Lucius' eyebrows and his lips move soundlessly as he considers her words. Eventually, he says, "That has absolutely no bearing on our situation."

"Well, I'm sorry." Hermione sits up and begins looking around for her underwear. "I didn't have time to come up with a better analogy. The point is, Lucius that I'm supposed to marry Draco. I've signed a marriage contract with Draco. The reason we are here together in the first place is because of _Draco_."

She pulls on her knickers and hunts under the bed for her bra.

"You've already admitted you are not in love with Draco." Lucius climbs off the bed and strolls naked into the bathroom. He lost his inhibitions remarkably quickly, Hermione thinks with some bitterness.

"I'm not in love with you either," she shouts at the closed door.

Lucius emerges from the bathroom, still naked but with his hair freshly combed. Hermione is absolutely not looking at his broad chest or his flat stomach, and she is definitely not looking at those muscular thighs.

"Of course you're not," Lucius says as she struggles to remember what they were talking about. "But even you are not naive enough to believe that what happened between is reproducible with a different partner." He watches with interest as Hermione puts on her bra.

"It might be," Hermione says defiantly. "We won't know without experimentation."

"I prefer not to experiment with matters of this ilk." Lucius has put on his trousers and shirt and is already beginning to look rather intimidating. Hermione struggles into her dress keen to even the playing field.

"An hour ago you weren't ever going to have sex again." She is still searching for her wand when Lucius comes to stand behind her and begins to do up buttons of her dress.

"An hour ago I was an idiot" his breath huffs across her back.

Hermione is beginning to feel desperate. "I'm not denying there is something between us." Out of the window, a small orchestra is making their way across the lawn with their instruments levitated behind them. "But it's my wedding day." She gestures to her dress.

"I'm not denying that." Lucius finishes with her buttons and spins her around to face him. "I'm merely suggesting you marry me instead."

Hermione can't quite believe what she has just heard. "I..I beg your pardon?"

"Marry me instead." Lucius is expertly tying his cravat. "You know it makes perfect sense."

"Does it?"

"You admitted your attraction to me already and we are clearly compatible when it comes to…" he hesitates searching for a word "...bedroom activities. You don't need to marry Draco in order to subvert the Marriage Incentive Programme. Any man will do. However, I have greater funds and more political clout than my son. It seems obvious that I am the better choice.

He has his expensive robes back on now. Clad once more in his aristocratic armour he is no longer the nervous virgin he had briefly allowed her to see. He is Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, pureblood, aristocrat, businessman, Death Ester… He is utterly unstoppable and utterly terrifying.

"The contract…"

"Contracts don't apply to people with as much money as me."

"You can't buy me!"

"I'm not proposing to buy _you_. I'm going to buy the celebrant."

"But Draco and I are friends."

"You and I," he fixes her with his steely gaze "are lovers."

The intensity of his declaration gives Hermione goosebumps. He is quite impossible to resist.

"This is ridiculous." She shakes her head trying to clear away the sensual fog Lucius appears to have shrouded her with. "We don't know each other. We don't even like each other."

"Who cares? We can hate each other by day and spend the night doing deliciously debauched things to each other." He moves into her space and seems to steal all of the oxygen as he does.

"I thought you didn't allow yourself to be ruled by your base nature."

He shrugs. "I made that rash statement prior to becoming intimately acquainted with my base nature. Now I plan to embrace it. Stop fighting it." His lips are inches from hers. "Say yes."

Her eyes flutter shut and her lips part in anticipation of his kiss. She can only marvel at his abrupt mastery of sexual manipulation. The temptation to give in to him; to surrender all of her carefully crafted plans in favour of the pursuit of hedonistic pleasure is overwhelming. She sways toward him eager for his kiss and says, "I need to think about it."

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 **A/N There wasn't even supposed to be smut in this chapter - they just did it themselves - I have no control...none! Reviews make me write more...that is actual science.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Hi everyone, sorry it's taken me a few days to update. It's really hard to get time at the computer over the weekend. When the baby sleeps the big kids want me to do 'arting' with them...**

 **Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews, follows and faves. On with the silliness.**

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Lucius leaves in a whirl of well-cut robes, expensive cologne, and thinly veiled threats. Despite the slight anomaly of his long-standing virginity, he is clearly a man who is used to getting what he wants. Denied his objective, he becomes tetchy. Hermione is not sure this is a characteristic she wishes for in a husband.

She bites back her principles and summons one of the house elves to come and help her with her hair. The little creature squeaks in horror at the dishevelled mane which has replaced her sleek bridal updo. The elf summons two of her colleagues who begin applying all sorts of potions and charms in an attempt to repair the damage. Despite a good deal of tutting none of them ask what happened to her to turn her from blushing bride into debauched hussy. They will have been tied to the family for long enough that they are most likely aware of the ritual. She blushes frantically at the thought of them discussing her fate whilst preparing the wedding feast.

In a remarkably short space of time, she is returned to her former splendour and the elves leave her nursing a cup of tea and her dilemma.

Could she really marry Lucius? His offer, whilst unexpected, had been genuine and judging by his surly demeanour when she had not immediately acquiesced he did actually want to marry her. No matter how bizarre that might seem.

She closes her eyes and is immediately assailed by images of Lucius' graceful fingers running over her exposed skin. She shifts in her seat wincing a little as she does. Twice in one morning with a man as well-endowed as Lucius is probably not the most sensible introduction to sexual intercourse.

She summons a parchment and quill and, as is her wont, divides it into two columns which she further subdivides into pros and cons.

She starts with Lucius as he is foremost in her mind. She is horrified to find her list of pros to be quickly growing. Lucius is handsome, well built, has good hair, smells delicious, shows a natural aptitude for sex and desires her physically. In addition to these impressive qualities, he is more powerful than Draco. Whilst Lucius too has been affected by the post-war fallout he has business dealings all over the world and is still a figure to be reckoned with. Horrified that Lucius appears to be dominating the field Hermione quickly scribbles down _domineering_ and _pureblood supremacist_ in the cons column.

It takes her much longer to categorise Draco. He has been a good friend to her and it seems unfair to comment on the fact that he is less handsome, less well built, has less good hair and doesn't smell as delicious as his father. It's not that Draco doesn't possess these traits to some degree; they are simply less abundant. Hermione doesn't know what Draco's sexual prowess is like, but she knows for certain that he does not desire her physically. The feeling is mutual.

Draco does have his pros though. Friendly, easy to talk to and liked by Harry and Ginny has to count for something. As does actually _likes_ me. She stares at those words for a long moment. She and Lucius are not friends; they barely know each other and would be embarking on a marriage based solely on sexual attraction.

On the other hand, there is no physical chemistry between her and Draco. Absolutely none. The thought of having sex with him had been unpleasant at best, but now, having experienced sex with a man she is attracted to the idea is repugnant. She can't deny that Lucius' response to her is flattering just as Draco's indifference is not. They have never discussed fidelity, but Hermione does not expect for a minute that Draco plans to eschew all other sexual partners in her favour. This leaves a rather unpleasant taste in her mouth. She doesn't care where Draco dips his wand, but the thought of Rita Skeeter publishing a damming exposé Of Draco Malfoy's latest indiscretion leaving her open to public pity and ridicule? That doesn't sit well with her at all. Lucius has made his intentions perfectly clear. He wants her and only her.

Hermione drains her tea and tucks her wand into her garter. She needs to speak to Draco.

"You want to what?"

If Hermione had thought Lucius' robes were ostentatious then Draco's have reached a new pinnacle in overdone. He is draped in so much silk and brocade it is hard to see where the robes end and the wizard begins. Not that she's looking that closely.

"I want to marry your father."

She finds Draco in his chambers. These comprise a large suite of rooms in the east wing of the manor. Draco is in his informal sitting room and had been staring rather pensively at a wizarding chess board before Hermione entered. Now he is staring at her as if she is a particularly difficult puzzle.

"You have actually met my father, I take it?"

She rolls her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me about Primae Noctis?"

Draco has the grace to colour a little at that. "I didn't know when I suggested we get married; I promise you that, Granger." He moves to the sideboard and pours himself a very small measure of firewhisky. Hermione shakes her head when he raises the decanter and looks inquiringly in her direction. "When father told me what you would have to do, I confess I was too frightened to tell you."

Hermione snorts. "You were probably right to be. I imagine I'd have hexed you."

"You obviously didn't hex my father though." Draco tilts his head to one side. "Have you done it already?"

"None of your business." She feels the blush that will provide his answer stealing across her face.

"You have!" Draco takes a seat opposite the chess board once more. "How was it? No, don't answer that. It must have been pretty spectacular if you've decided to marry him and not me." He took a sip of his drink. "He always seemed like such a cold fish, but I knew the old boy must have hidden depths."

"Draco-"

"Oh don't worry, I'm not offended." Draco takes another sip of his drink. "At least I don't think I am. You could at least have given me a shot. I'm sure I could have given a good account of myself."

"Malfoy, you've told me on more than one occasion that you find me less attractive than your racing broom."

"Well, that's true." Draco looks speculatively at her. "Still it's the principle of the matter." He frowns. "My father didn't Imperio you did he?"

"No!" Although if he had I wouldn't be able to tell you, would I?"

"Good point." Draco points his wand at her and gives a half-hearted, " _Finite incantatum_."

Hermione stands and watches him.

"Do you still want to marry my father?"

"Not exactly," Hermione admits as she takes a seat next to him. "I don't really want to marry either of you, to be honest."

"But you've decided my father is the better option?"

Hermione nods.

"Merlin, Granger was he really that good?"

"Actually he was." Hermione refuses to be embarrassed. None of this is her fault she reminds herself. "But that's not why I want to marry him. Well, not entirely."

"Why then?" Draco moves one of his bishops then apparently rethinks his strategy and moves it back.

"He wants me." She is not blushing, she is absolutely not blushing.

Draco is smirking. "And it's very important for you to give him what he wants?"

"No, of course not. But I do want to be desired, Malfoy. I hadn't realised before how important it is to me."

Draco purses his lips. "I'm sorry I can't give you that."

"It's not your fault. I don't fancy you either."

He winces slightly. "Still, my father? He's not a nice person you know. He might want you now, but what about in six months or a year?"

Hermione shakes her head. "I don't know. What was he like with your mother?"

Draco frowns. "Sad," he eventually says. "You must have seen how he behaves toward everyone else; demanding; exacting even. He wasn't like that with her. He constantly tried to please her." He gives a humourless laugh. "It never worked though. Maybe if she was a bit nicer to him he wouldn't be such an arse to everyone else."

"Maybe." Hermione feels uncomfortable now as if she is spying on Lucius via the medium of Draco.

"If you really want to marry him I won't stand in your way." Draco moves his bishop decisively this time.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy."

"Don't be. I've had my concerns about this whole arrangement right from the minute I suggested it."

"Why didn't you say something before?"

"You seemed so certain. You're quite frightening once you set your mind to something. Then mother got her planning hat on and it seemed like it was too late to pull out at that point. Besides, I was enjoying aggravating my father. Are you absolutely sure he wants to marry you?"

"Yes, Draco, I am absolutely sure that I wish to marry her." Lucius billows into the room in a swirl of brocade and cologne. Hermione gets such a fright that she only just stops herself from falling off the sofa. Draco merely rolls his eyes.

"Hello, Father." He proceeds to ignore Lucius and leans forward scrutinising his chess board with exaggerated attention. Eventually, he places his fingers on the black queen.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Lucius looms over the board.

"I'm not sure you're making the best decisions at the moment, Father." Draco decisively moves the queen.

Lucius lets out a loud sigh. "Always so impatient," he mutters and leans down to move the white knight. "Checkmate," he says smugly as the white knight decapitates the black queen. Draco curses under his breath. The room ripples with testosterone.

"For goodness sake!" Hermione gets to her feet hands planted on her hips. What are you two going to do next, thumb wrestling? A duel?

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea." Draco gets to his feet. "What do you say, Father? How about a duel for Granger's hand in marriage."

"How about you sit down and shut up." Hermione whips her wand from her garter and hits Draco with a particularly vicious Jelly legs jinx.

"As for you…" she advances on Lucius her wand drawn ignoring the flash of heat that lit up his cold eyes at the sight of her exposed thigh. "What on earth do you think you're doing here?"

Lucius adjusts his cuffs looking unperturbed by her aggression. "I'm here to withdraw my permission for your marriage."

"What? You can't do that...the contract is signed!" Draco attempts to stand, and slumps spectacularly to the floor.

Hermione scowls at Lucius. "Why on earth would you withdraw your consent at this stage?"

"I would have thought that was obvious. Draco can't marry without my permission, not without jeopardizing his inheritance anyway. If I withdraw my consent then you will _have_ to marry me."

Hermione lowers her wand and rubs her eyes. "That's probably the least romantic proposal I've ever heard."

"Technically, I proposed to you earlier when you said you'd think about it. Not the most romantic response I've ever heard."

"Well I have thought about it," she lowers her voice to a whisper and glances in Draco's direction. "I had decided I was going to take you up on your ridiculous proposal until you barged in here and started acting like a complete arse." Her voice rises shrilly at the end of the sentence.

"How dare you-" Lucius begins before he clearly realises from the set of Hermione's jaw that aggression is very much the wrong response. "I'm sorry." He spits the apology out as if it tastes particularly bad. "I just wanted a little extra assurance that you would make the correct decision."

"No, you didn't." Draco has found his feet again and staggers between the two of them. "You just wanted to get one up on me just like you always do. It's pathetic, that's what it is…"

Quite before she knows what is happening the two Malfoys have each other at wand point. Draco throws the first hex Hermione thinks, but then they are flying so fast and thick she barely manages to avoid being caught in the crossfire. Hermione has never seen anything quite like it before. If she had been told that she would have witnessed a duel between Draco and Lucius Malfoy she might have imagined there would be dark curses flying everywhere, but they are quite the opposite. They both seem to have a vast repertoire of schoolyard jinxes which they throw with abandon. She supposes she ought to be relieved that they are not seriously trying to injure each other.

Finally, unable to take the stupidity a moment longer she casts _reducto_ in the direction of Draco's sofa. The two Malfoy's turn in unison to stare first at the exploded chair with its stuffing erupting in all directions and then at Hermione herself.

"I _liked_ that sofa," Draco mutters.

"Enough," she speaks very firmly, as if to children. "You are both behaving abominably, you should be ashamed of yourselves. I'm not a toy to be fought over." She glowers at Lucius. "You should apologise to your son. And you" —she rounds on Draco who wipes the beginnings of a smirk from his face— "should apologise to your father. Now, in forty-five minutes the Wizarding World will be waiting to see me marry a Malfoy. I don't particularly want to marry either of you right now, but there's a promotion coming up at work next week that I'd very much like to be considered for. So why don't you two just sort it out amongst yourselves?" She storms out of the room slamming the door behind her.

"I don't know what I was thinking," she says moments later to a shocked looking Ginny who his offering her a glass of water.

"She needs something stronger than that Gin." George chivalrously offers Hermione a drink from his hip flask.

"No thanks, George, I think I'd best keep a clear head."

"Your head obviously wasn't that clear if you shagged Malfoy senior on the day you were supposed to marry his son," Harry points out his green eyes screwed up with confusion.

"She had to, Harry, weren't you listening?" Ginny pats Hermione's back comfortingly. "It's a nasty business that Primae Noctis."

"You've heard of it?" Hermione asks.

"Oh yes. It's not nearly as common as it used to be, but I remember mum telling me about it. Good job the Weasleys never adopted it - imagine if mum had had to shag Grandad Weasley!" The assembled Weasleys and Harry all sniggered.

"What I don't understand though is why on earth you didn't just say you wanted to marry Lucius. If he was the one you wanted?"

Hermione buries her face in her hands in response to Ginny's innocuous question.

"I was angry with him," she wails. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of winning over Draco.

"Then why didn't you pick Draco?"

"Because I want to marry Luciuuuuuus," she is really sobbing now although somewhere in the back of her mind is the thought that this is just pre-wedding hysteria and one of her friends ought to slap her.

"Are you really sure about this whole thing, Hermione?" Harry seems horrified at being forced to take up the now vacant position as the voice of reason. "I could understand you marrying Draco...sort of…but Lucius...or leaving it to chance? That doesn't really seem like you."

"Well I've made my bed now" —Hermione squares her shoulders and wipes away the tears which have caused her mascara to run— "now I have to lie in it with one Malfoy or another."

The same long-suffering house elf is sought out to tidy up Hermione's face and she is returned to her former glory for the second time that day. She curses herself for the poorly timed fit of pique. What if neither Malfoy wants to marry her now? She dismisses the thought. Their family has just as much to gain from the union as she does. She tells herself that it's really no disaster if she ends up marrying Draco and not Lucius. That had after all been the plan all along. She has spent the last year as the fiancé of Draco Malfoy; she could not, therefore, complain over becoming Mrs. Draco Malfoy.

Still, every time she closes her eyes Lucius' stern face is there at the forefront of her mind. There is undoubtedly something between them. At the very least a pheromone driven physical chemistry, but she can't help but wonder if, given the chance, it might be something more.

"I'll probably never know," she says to herself. The sad truth is that while Draco knows and likes her well enough to put up with her pre-wedding strop Lucius does not. He is probably, at this very moment, congratulating himself on a narrow escape from a hormone-fuelled marriage to a nagging shrew. And I'm lucky not to be marrying an evil, Machiavellian, manipulative prude, she thinks firmly.

 **A/N sorry - I feel this is a bit all filler and no thriller! The next chapter is written, but needs some heavy editing - I'll hopefully have it up soon.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Hi Everyone. This chapter took a bit longer than I had planned as it required an emergency smut injection. I realised I had written 7000 words of wedding with nothing more than a chaste kiss. I was genuinely afraid to post it in case I was lynched. I've had to split the chapter so There's now one more chapter and an epilogue to come.**

 **I've been editing this morning whilst the baby watches the breakfast news and shouts at me...any mistakes are entirely her fault.**

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The grounds of Malfoy manor are absolutely stunning. Hermione sees now why Narcissa was so adamant that they marry in autumn. The lawn still has enough of its vibrancy (only a little magically enhanced) to contrast brilliantly with the flame-coloured trees which edge the formal gardens and the sandstone house itself seems almost to glow in the clear October light. Growing up in the Muggle world this has always been Hermione's favourite time of year. Even here in deepest magical Wiltshire, she is sure there is a hint of autumn bonfires and toffee apples in the air.

Guests have been arriving steadily for the past thirty minutes and are now seated on the hundreds of gilt chairs the house elves spent the previous day organising. The aisle is flanked by huge box hedge sculptures depicting magical creatures. Hermione thinks they looked a little sinister. She isn't at all sure she wants a box thestral presiding over her wedding, but she has paid little interest to Narcissa's planning. If she had she might have said no to the troupe of jugglers and fire eaters who have been entertaining the children up until a few moments ago. She would definitely have put her foot down regarding the addition of several dozen more white peacocks to the manor's already overcrowded stock. She is sure that more than one guest will be taking home a little souvenir on the sole of their shoe and she has already cast a number of imperturbable charms over her dress and footwear.

Finally, a hush falls over the crowd and the orchestra Hermione had seen earlier strike up Pachelbel's Canon in D minor. Narcissa had initially railed against using the Muggle music but was won over by Hermione taking her out to her car to listen to a CD of the London Philharmonic. Hermione has subsequently heard her talking excitedly to some of her pureblood friends about the avant-garde Muggle music they would be hearing at the wedding.

It really is the wedding of the century. Hermione has grossly underestimated the public appetite for a member of the golden trio marrying the heir to one of the oldest wizarding families. Their engagement has spawned thousands of pages of press coverage. Most positive, some incredulous, only Rita Skeeter's has been in any way negative. Narcissa has proved herself to be just as shrewd as her ex-husband and Hermione wonders how much money has been made from the bank of photographers and reporters in a cordoned off area close to the altar.

Speaking of the altar; she can't quite see it from where she is currently standing in a specially erected pergola laced with enough notice me not charms to see off the most dedicated of reporters Due to the curve of the lawns the aisle has a slight bend and the alter is currently hidden behind a huge box hippogriff.

Hermione grips her bouquet tightly and takes several deep calming breaths.

"You look beautiful." Ginny kisses her softly on the cheek before she arranges a heavy diamond studded veil over Hermione's face.

"You ready?" Harry offers her his arm and she grips onto it tightly never more grateful than now for the support of her friends. Slowly, trying desperately not to trip over the hem of her gown she begins to make her way down the aisle with Ginny following behind.

It is, by necessity, a very long aisle and for the first half of it at least Hermione doesn't recognise a single face. These must be all the important society witches and wizards that Narcissa assured Hermione they just could not leave out. As they move closer to the alter she begins to pick out prominent ministry workers, members of the Wizengamot, and politicians. Her ability to recognise anybody is seriously hampered by the heavy veil which has been in the Black family for several generations. Hermione hates it, but is extremely touched by Narcissa's gesture in offering it. Through the lace and diamonds she thinks she makes out her own boss and members of her department amongst the crowd and shoots a smile in their direction.

Eventually, she is amongst her friends. Most of the Hogwarts staff has come, including Hagrid who is sitting in a specially reinforced chair next to an ice sculpture of a werewolf. Some of the centaurs from the forbidden forest have also made the trip and are standing to one side. Hermione spares a smile for Firenze. Then there are her Hogwarts classmates and members of the DA. Hermione slows a little and grins at Neville and Hannah who are sitting with Luna and Rolf. Finally, occupying the front rows on her side are the assembled Weasley clan who smile supportively at her as she passes. She realises belatedly that she has been so busy searching out her friends that she has not looked up at the altar.

The figure standing there has his back to both her and the assembled crowd. Hermione's breath catches in her throat and she longs to rip the stupid veil away from her face in order to let her see clearly the man who she is to marry. She is forced by propriety to continue her slow journey forward as a slow ripple of surprise runs through the crowd and Lucius Malfoy turns around to greet his bride.

She almost stumbles at the sight of him. He has changed his outfit since she last saw him and she wonders if perhaps he had time to have a whole new ensemble tailored in time for his surprise wedding. His outer robes are a soft dove grey and she thinks the colour suits him much better than his habitual black as it warms up his pale skin and softens the steely grey of his eyes. His face is as impassive as always, but Hermione notices that muscle ticking in his jaw and his mouth turns up into a half smile as she closes the distance between them and reaches out to take his hand.

"Miss Granger."

"Mr. Malfoy."

The half-smile becomes a smirk. He leans in so his lips brush against the fabric of her veil. "Tell me Miss Granger, who did you wish to prevail, father or son?"

It is Hermione's turn to smirk. "You'll just have to find out later, won't you?" She looks around. "Where's Draco, you didn't kill him did you?"

"I'm right here, Granger." Draco steps forward into the best man position. Hermione bites her lip. If she is not very much mistaken Draco is sporting a black eye. She looks very closely at Lucius and wonders if she can detect the shimmer of a glamour along the line of his jaw.

"Boys," she mutters.

Ginny comes around Hermione in order to lift the veil and tuck it safely behind her. "You'll be fine," she whispers. She quickly squeezes the hand not held possessively by Lucius and goes to stand by Harry on one side of the altar.

"Good luck, Granger." Draco gives her a brotherly punch on the arm and takes up his position on the other side of the celebrant.

Her hand remains in Lucius' throughout the ceremony. This is a good thing as it stops her from legging it during the celebrant's particularly long dissertation on fidelity. She can't help but notice that his hand is very nice as hands go. It's warm and pleasingly large completely engulfing her much smaller appendage. Still, she almost gets cold feet on a number of occasions. Is she really, on the basis of three orgasms and a handshake, about to marry a man she has, until this day, disliked unreservedly? It appears that she is. Despite every nerve in her body screaming at her to turn tail and run she obediently repeats her vows after Lucius.

Lucius appears unmoved by the whole operation. Other than the steely clasp of his fingers around her own (which might have appeared romantic to anyone who didn't know that Hermione is a serious flight risk) he seems completely relaxed. When the vows are finally over and the choir of wood nymphs has finished their eerie serenade Lucius turns to her with a look of immense satisfaction. His expression as he brings his lips down on hers reminds Hermione of that moment in the ministry when he signed his much-improved business deal.

He doesn't kiss like a man who lost his virginity only a few hours previously. His lips are soft and warm as they caress hers. Hermione can't quite believe she is capable of any response, but in spite of the ache between her legs and the public nature of their clinch, she feels a flicker of arousal as Lucius cups her cheek. His tongue flicks briefly against hers before he raises his head. The stunned crowd break into muted applause and Hermione fixes a rictus grin on her face.

They retire to another gazebo to sign the register. As she signs Hermione Granger for the last time Hermione feels herself begin to tremble. This is without doubt the rashest thing she has ever done. A swirl of magic forms along the lines of her signature. It leaves the page in an iridescent golden string which winds around her hand to join with the ring on her left hand. Her whole arm is suffused with calming warmth. She glances over to see that Lucius is experiencing the same phenomena. He reaches out his free hand to her and as soon as their fingers touch another golden thread begins to knit their fingers together the same warmth spreading through her fingers and up her arm eventually settling in her chest. She watches transfixed until the golden light is completely dissolved.

When she looks up she realises to her surprise that she and Lucius are alone. Lucius has his wand in hand and as he flicks it the walls of the gazebo roll down affording them at least a semblance of privacy.

"What are you doing?" Hermione just has time to ask as Lucius pulls her into his arms and brings his mouth hungrily down on hers. His answer is unnecessary. It appears that wedding ceremonies have an aphrodisiac effect on her new husband. He kisses her with more enthusiasm than finesse. His hands bracket her jaw and his tongue demands entry to her mouth. Hermione finds herself helplessly kissing him back. She doesn't care that they are in the middle of her wedding with a thousand guests including the Minister for Magic and The Chosen One outside. She doesn't care that her hair and makeup are being smeared for the third time that day. All she cares about is the intoxicating sensation of Lucius' mouth against her own. She wishes for nothing more than to be subsumed completely by him; to sink into him and drown in the pleasure he offers without ever coming up for air.

She doesn't protest as he skims his hands over her rib cage and palms her breasts his thumbs rubbing over the nipples. The jewelled silk of her dress provides far too much of a barrier and she arches her back pushing herself into his hands, trying to heighten the sensation. Her hands have been in his hair, his beautiful soft hair which she has wanted to touch for as long as she can remember, she just hasn't dared admit it to herself before now. Now though, they skim down to grasp his taut buttocks and she pulls him closer so she can feel the jut of his erection against her belly. They groan in unison.

His mouth leaves hers and trails hot and wet down her neck as he presses biting kisses to the throbbing pulse there. Then she feels his hand inching up the skirt of her dress, burrowing desperately beneath the fabric until his hot palm burns on her thigh. Somewhere, in the back of her mind she thinks she ought to stop him. This is nether the time nor the place and perhaps the intensity between them is why this marriage is such a bad idea. She doesn't want to be out of control. She can think of nothing worse than being a slave to sensation. And yet it does not occur to her to push him away, to consider how embarrassed she will feel later when they are inevitably forced to leave their temporary sanctuary. All she can think about is the near painful heat that is growing between her legs. There is a fire burning there which only Lucius can extinguish.

His hand flattens against her belly and his fingers slip beneath the elastic of her knickers. She gives a squeak of shock, surprise and pleasure as he parts the swollen lips of her sex and his middle finger slips inside her. He's moving cautiously now and feeling his way as he begins to move in and out of her. Hermione feels herself clench greedily around him as she tries to prevent his exit.

"More," she hears herself gasp against his cheek. She feels Lucius smile and he withdraws a little before she is stretched by the addition of another finger. She breathes his name as she arches her back and presses herself as close to him as humanely possible. She rocks her hips back and forth against his thrusting fingers. With each rock his palm rubs against her clit and she can feel her orgasm building lineside her. She's going to explode in an event as cataclysmic and inevitable as the big bang. Lucius has somehow taken control of her as surely as if he had her under the Imperius curse and she can do nothing now but wait for her climax and hope that it doesn't render her extinct. She lets out a brief cry as she begins to come and Lucius clamps his free hand across her mouth. Even as his fingers continue to move inside her he gazes down at her with a curious mixture of elation, lust and humour in his expressive grey eyes.

Hermione's body throbs on and on in what seems like an endless chain reaction of pleasure which leaves her wrung out and weak as she sags against Lucius. He gently withdraws his hand, allowing her skirt to settle around her ankles once more, and presses a soft kiss against her forehead.

"Did I tell you you are magnificent?" he asks huskily. She has never heard him sound so sincere. She can only blink at him as she gradually comes down to earth. Gently he disentangles himself from her and removes her fist from where she is unconsciously clutching his robes. He performs multiple _Scourgifys_ over both of them and uses a handy steam emitting charm to take the creases out of his rumpled robes. Finally, he conjures a soft cloth and gently wipes at Hermione's face. Judging by the stains he is removing smudged mascara and smeared lipstick. Hermione fears that nothing he can do will remove the just shagged expression which she can't seem to shift.

"Do we have to go back out there?" she eventually asks surprised by the sound of her own voice. It sounds completely normal. She had half expected to have transformed into another person entirely.

"I'm afraid so." Lucius raises her hand to his lips. "Please rest assure that I have no more appetite for this celebration than you. I shall spend the entire evening picturing you screaming my name as I bury myself inside you once more."

He doesn't wait for a response from her. Instead, he turns away and raises the sides of the gazebo with a flick of his wand. Hermione clutches hold of his hand and, blinking at the sudden light, follows her new husband out into the garden to face their public.

 **A/N - I hope you're all happy with the choice of groom (!) I wanted to say something about the empty review box just waiting to be filled, but I'm incapable of writing anything without innuendo at present so I'll just shut up.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Sorry it's taken me a while to update. I've been working on my nano project and keeping the baby alive. Thank you all for reviewing and following and favouriting and leaving me reviews on my other stories too - it's not only spurred me on to work on this story, but it's really encouraged me to keep going with my original fic; even though the poor couple appear to have been stuck on a train for about three weeks now...**

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The reception passes in something of a blur. She is only grateful to her friends. Tasked with spreading the word regarding her possible change of groom prior to the ceremony they have run damage interference amongst many of her acquaintances. Hermione is particularly grateful to Ginny who has more reason to hate Lucius than anyone. She has remained stalwart in her support of Hermione. They both know that explanations will be required at some point in the future, but for now, Ginny is prepared to wait.

Having already suffered the shock of Hermione announcing an engagement to Draco 'ferret' Malfoy many of her acquaintance don't seem that surprised that she has decided to marry Lucius instead. Hermione wonders if their acceptance of her decision is indicative of an already long established belief that her mental health is suffering.

The contingent of the great and good of the wizarding world seem unconcerned. Perhaps they hadn't even realised she was supposed to be marrying Draco in the first place. Most of the revellers are happily swigging champagne and seem not to give a fig that Hermione has just signed her life away to a man she had previously considered her enemy. Even their lengthy sojourn in the gazebo garners less interest than Hermione might have expected. To those who know her well the idea that she might have been engaged in anything remotely improper is so highly unlikely that they don't even stop to consider it. Those who know her less well are polite enough (or afraid enough of Lucius) to keep their thoughts to themselves. Only Ginny and Draco give any hint that they might suspect the impropriety of her actions, and they are both kind enough not to embarrass her…in public anyway.

Lucius remains beside her at all times, her hand still firmly clasped in his. He is a skilled social animal. Hermione feels a stab of jealousy as he confidently negotiates the shark-infested waters of their wedding reception. His urbane smile remains fixed in place as he vomits platitudes in response to every offer of congratulations or question from their guests.

He handles the reporters with aplomb. Of course, Hermione had been engaged to his son. It had never been his intention to steal his son's bride but they were simply the victims of a passion they could not control. In the end, Draco had been willing to step aside in the face of true love. Hermione can only attempt to keep the incredulous look off her face.

"Is that true?" Hermione asks when they are granted a brief moment of peace as they wait for the photographer to set up.

"Is what true?"

"Was Draco happy to step aside? I can't help but notice his face."

Lucius smirks, but his fingers trace the glamoured area of his own jaw. Hermione raises an eyebrow.

"Draco's objection was not over the loss of his fiancée." He sighs and his smile slips for the first time since they said their vows. "Perhaps I did not go about persuading him to relinquish you in quite the best way."

"Perhaps not." Hermione bites her lip and looks away from him. She is reminded that she barely knows this man. It's not just his past as a Death Eater that she has to contend with. She knows almost nothing of his personality, his likes, and dislikes, whether he snores… She sucks in a deep calming breath.

Lucius is looking down at her. His smirk is back in place, but there is a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "Regrets, Miss Granger?"

She shakes her head slowly. "Not exactly. It's just… don't you think this is crazy?"

"What is crazy?"

"That we're married. We don't know each other Lucius. I don't even know what your favourite food is."

"It's toast."

"Toast?" Momentarily distracted her jaw drops a little. She would have expected him to say caviar or oysters or foie gras.

"It's such a versatile food, don't you think?"

"Erm, yes, I suppose...I like toast too." She shakes her head vigorously. The conversation is not about toast. "That's beside the point."

He takes her chin in his fingers. "You are thinking too much," he tells her firmly. "We shall get to know one and other. If we like each other, then fine. If not we will stay out of each other's way as much as possible. Believe me; the manor is quite big enough for us to lead entirely separate lives." There is a hint of bitterness in his cultured voice.

"What about the debauched nights?" Hermione can't help but ask.

Lucius smiles. "I hope that they will occur whether we like each other or not."

"I think it might be hard to have mind-blowing sex with someone I don't like."

"You didn't like me four hours ago."

She is about to concede the point when Narcissa arrives at her right elbow. For the first time during the reception, Lucius melts away leaving Hermione all alone with his ex-wife. Who is also, unfortunately, the mother of her jilted fiancée.

"Hermione, congratulations." Narcissa places a kiss in the air three inches to the left of Hermione's cheek.

"Thank you." She decides to take the bull by the horns. "Narcissa, I'm so sorry."

"Whatever for, my dear?"

"For everything...this…" she gestures vaguely into the space which Lucius had occupied until a few moments ago.

"Oh think nothing of it." Narcissa takes a sip of champagne. She fixes Hermione with her beautiful blue eyes. "What on earth made you decide to marry Lucius?"

The blush is unavoidable and she absolutely cannot look at Narcissa. "Primae Noctis," she admits.

Both of Narcissa's beautifully shaped eyebrows climb her forehead so they almost mingle with her elegantly coiffured hair.

"Primae Noctis," she repeats softly. She gives a slightly sad smile. "I'm glad your experience was better than mine. I had no idea Lucius had it in him."

"I don't think he did either." The response escapes Hermione before she can censor herself. To her relief, Narcissa lets out a tinkling, bell-like laugh.

"I like you," she says. "I believe you will do well with Lucius. He and I had nothing in common, you know and what happened with his father…" her voice tails off and she takes a large gulp of champagne. "Let's just say it wasn't the best start to a marriage. I'm truly happy for you both."

"Thank you."

"It is I who should be thanking you." Narcissa looks around the ballroom with a look of immense satisfaction. "This last year has been the happiest of my life. I've thoroughly enjoyed organising your wedding and now I will get to do it all over again when Draco finds somebody else to marry!"

Narcissa excuses herself and Hermione is left smiling at Draco's mother's unexpected pragmatism. Still, something about Narcissa's words make her uneasy. She can't quite put her finger on it though and the thought is ousted from her brain by the return of Lucius.

"Are you alright?" His arm snakes around her waist and she is surprised how right it feels to be held by him.

"I'm fine, no thanks to you." She digs her elbow into his ribs. "I can't believe you ran away like a frightened mouse as soon as your ex-wife appeared."

"I had to have a word with the Minister of magic." Lucius avoids her eye.

"Really?" Hermione's voice drips with disbelief.

"Really." He gives an infinitesimal shrug. "I will admit I was not particularly keen to feel the sharp edge of Narcissa's tongue on this happy occasion."

"She was quite charming."

"I'm surprised. I would have expected her to accuse me of deliberately ruining her day."

"Quite the opposite. She's looking forward to doing it all again when Draco finds himself a new fiancée." Again the uneasy feeling rears its head. She ignores it. "And technically, I think it's supposed to be _my_ day."

Lucius throws back his head and laughs. Hermione, unprepared for the assault of his good dentition and sparkling eyes is quite overwhelmed. Her stomach turns over uncomfortably. It could be that Lucius Malfoy is just too much for her to handle.

"I can't remember the last time I laughed as much as I have today." Lucius' countenance grows more serious and his tone more intimate. "What have you done to me?"

Hermione is saved from stuttering an answer by the sounding of a gong to indicate that the wedding breakfast is served.

The seating plan had required a serious rejig on Lucius' side. Narcissa's planners clearly felt that the ex-wife should not sit next to the groom and, as a consequence, Narcissa had graciously vacated the top table. Draco takes the place to Lucius' right and Harry sits on Hermione's left.

"What happened to Draco's eye?" he asks her _sotto voice_.

"Lucius."

"Seriously?" Harry looks a little scandalised.

"I wouldn't feel too sorry for him; look at Lucius' jaw, left side."

Harry squints at Lucius as unobtrusively as possible. Eventually, he turns to Hermione and purses his lips nodding thoughtfully. "I would have thought that someone as vain as Lucius would have been better at glamours."

They both giggle at this which causes Lucius to look suspiciously in their direction.

"Something you wish to share, my dear?"

"No." Hermione forces herself to stop laughing. She feels rather chastised as if she and Harry are a pair of toddlers who have accidentally stumbled up to the dinner table.

The food is delicious all nine courses of it. Hermione is secretly grateful to Narcissa for her extensive lessons in the use of the appropriate table wear. She notices Harry surreptitiously following her lead. Over at the Weasley table, George is purposefully eating his roast duck with his dessert spoon to the hilarity of Ron and Charlie.

The meal passes quickly and they are all too occupied with eating to engage in much conversation. Ginny, sat next to Harry is uncharacteristically quiet but she smiles over at Hermione whenever their eyes meet. Hermione is profoundly grateful that wizarding weddings do not follow the Muggle tradition of after-dinner speeches. Lucius would probably be able to come up with something appropriate on the hoof, but she dreads to think what Harry would say and she imagines that Draco's best man speech would be rather fruity.

Her relief is short lived though as the meal is cleared and toasts are drunk and all of a sudden Lucius is whispering in her ear that it is time for the first dance.

For her entire life, Hermine has harboured a deep and dark secret. In the months leading up to her wedding, it had kept her awake at night. She had appeared at work with dark shadows beneath her eyes and had snapped grumpily at all and sundry. Draco had noticed the change in her demeanour and eventually called her up on it. With tears in her eyes, she had finally confessed something she had never admitted to a living soul before.

"I can't dance, Draco, not a step."

Draco had looked at her with the superiority of someone who took ballroom dancing lessons shortly after learning to walk. "I'll teach you then, Granger, it's not that hard."

"You don't understand." Hermione dashed a tear from her cheek. "It took me an entire term to learn one dance for the Yule Ball. My grades slipped terribly because I spent all my time practicing. Even then, Viktor had to lead me and I stood on his foot so badly he said he might never play Quidditch again."

Draco had laughed, rather a lot. But he had also taken it upon himself to teach her to dance. As Hermione had predicted it had not been plain sailing. By the day of the wedding, they had agreed that Hermione ought to be able to make it through the wedding waltz. Provided Draco maintained an inappropriately close hold on her and counted loudly in her ear the entire time. Hermione had been just about reconciled to this plan, but now she realises that it is defunct, because she will not be dancing with Draco.

She looks up at Lucius with huge, worried eyes.

"What's the matter?" He solicitously offers her his arm to escort her onto the dance floor.

"Nothing I—" she takes his arm and leans close enough to smell his cologne. She indulges in one small sniff. It's strangely calming.

"You what?" Lucius pulls her into his arms his large hand splaying over her back.

Hermione edges a little closer. Lucius pulls back a little.

"Lucius, I can't dance!" Hermione steps back into his space again.

"Evidently so, you are standing much too close to me, it's inappropriate."

She almost rolls her eyes. So much for his becoming acquainted with his base nature. "I need to stand this close." She is standing so near that she can speak directly into his ear. "You basically have to drag me around the floor."

Lucius frowns, but she can see the corner of his mouth tilting up in amusement. At least she hopes it's amusement.

"It is most irregular...the guests will think we are…" he tails off.

"Shagging?" Hermione asks helpfully.

"Miss Granger!"

"Sorry, sorry. I'm nervous. You're worried the guests will think we are already on intimate terms?"

He stiffens. "Yes."

"Well we are, aren't we?"

"Yes, but that's a private matter."

"Well it wasn't very private when we were in the gazebo and you—"

"Hush." He is properly blushing now. "I admit I may have allowed myself to become a little carried away, but we were at least concealed from view by the gazebo walls. Here we are the centre of attention."

Hermione glances around them. He is quite right, everybody is watching them.

"Sorry, it's either this or I break your foot."

"Very well." He pulls her even closer. Her breasts are now trapped against his chest.

"There's something else." It's rather hard for her to speak. She is breathless from Lucius' grip and her nose is squashed against his shoulder.

"Yes?" His tone is long-suffering.

"I need you to count."

The orchestra beings to play.

"Count?" Lucius leads her into the dance. She stands on his foot and he yelps.

"Yes, count, please Lucius." She stands on him again and he immediately begins to count a look of pained disapproval on his face.

The dance doesn't go too badly after that. Hermione is almost able to enjoy the feeling of being pressed against Lucius, their thighs rubbing against each other as he guides her through the steps.

"All this counting makes it rather difficult to indulge in seductive small talk."

"Stop talking," she hisses as she tries to take over the counting in her own head.

"How am I supposed to woo you on the dance floor if I'm not allowed to say anything other than one, two, three, one, two, three?"

"I think we're already past the wooing stage." She stumbles into him.

"You really are terrible at this aren't you?"

"Yes. And remarking on my lack of dancing skills hardly counts as wooing. Could you please start counting again."

Much to her relief he says nothing more and counts doggedly through the rest of the dance.

It is probably the least disastrous dance Hermione has ever performed in public. Draco gives her a subtle thumbs up from across the dance floor. Lucius, however, looks stern.

"We will need to engage in a lot more practice if you are not going to embarrass me in public," he states. "Dancing is one of the core skills of a pureblood wife."

"Well it's lucky I'm not a pureblood wife then isn't it?" The music is ending and Hermione tries to pull away from him.

"I didn't say I would object to being your instructor." Lucius maintains his hold although he has released her hand and places his free hand on her waist. "And I rather enjoy your take on the ballroom hold."

"Okay." She breathes in again. Why does he have to smell so good? She makes a note to stay out of sniffing range during future disagreements.

"How are you going to avoid dancing for the rest of the reception?" He has gently moved her off the dance floor and the orchestra has already begun to play again. Several guests are looking in her direction and Hermione stifles a groan.

"Maybe you could just hold on to me and look intimidating. Then nobody else will be brave enough to ask me?"

Lucius lets out a bark of laughter. "I'm afraid that would be very bad form. Ah look, here comes Potter, I assume he is aware of your limitations?"

"No," —Hermione smiles over at Harry— "but he is an even worse dancer than me he won't notice how bad I am.

Lucius laughs and releases her. "I believe I should dance with Mrs. Potter. I see the two of you are good friends. It would make your life easier if I cleared the air with her, would it not?"

"It would." Hermione is incredulous. "Thank you," she adds belatedly as Lucius sweeps off in search of an unsuspecting Ginny.

The dancing is interminable. She dances with Mr. Weasley who is full of fatherly concern and motherly advice. She dances with Ron who looks at her like a kicked puppy and reiterates once again that he would have happily married her and saved her the horror of being tied to an abomination such as Lucius. She dances with Draco who seems extremely pleased with himself despite the fact that he has been jilted. She dances with Professor Flitwick which makes her back ache and Hagrid which makes her neck hurt. She dances with Neville who she prevails upon to count thus avoiding the awkward topic of why on earth she has chosen to marry Lucius Malfoy. She dances with George who tries to put some sort of itching potion down her dress and asks her several times what took so long with the signing of register. She dances twice more with her husband pressed so tightly against his body that she can hardly breathe, and she wonders whether it is really the pressure he is exerting that is making her so breathless or simply the man himself.

At around 10pm Draco comes to find her. He is hand in hand with a small blond woman with a rosebud mouth and round blue eyes which remind Hermione of a china doll. In his free hand he carries a dirt stained gardening glove.

"Granger, you remember Astoria Greengrass, Daphne's sister?"

"Of course." Hermione scrabbles vaguely for a memory of the girl before her.

"It's alright." Astoria's smile lights up her entire face rendering her even more offensively pretty than she had been before. "I wasn't very memorable in school. It's nice to meet you." She offers a surprisingly firm handshake.

"So, Astoria and I were thinking we might go on the honeymoon." Astoria gives him a shocked look.

"Don't implicate me in all this, Draco Malfoy. The honeymoon was entirely your idea."

Draco grins. "It's true, I admit." He turns back to Hermione whilst keeping Astoria's hand firmly in his. "Astoria's been away in Brazil for the last two years. We're very keen to become reacquainted and surely a two week honeymoon in Barbados is the best way to do that."

Hermione can only admire his audacity. The two week honeymoon in a luxury wizarding resort was a gift from Harry and Ginny. If anyone should be going it should be her…and Lucius. The thought of Lucius Malfoy reclining on a beach in the Caribbean is quite fantastical and utterly horrifying. She nods in response to Draco's question whilst still failing to wipe the thought of Lucius in a pair of board shorts from her mind.

"Of course, you should go." She smiles at Astoria. "Both of you, really it's the least I can do."

"Thanks Granger." Draco gives her an enthusiastic hug.

"Thank you." Astoria smiles warmly. "And thanks for deciding not to marry him!" She tucks herself in beside Draco one hand clutching possessively around his upper arm.

"You're welcome." She watches as Draco touches his wand to the glove and the two of them disappear.

"Where did Draco go?" Lucius appears beside her.

"On the honeymoon."

Lucius attempts to look disapproving, but there is a definite twinkle in his eye. "That boy is incorrigible," he says, half to himself. Then to Hermione, "Do you mind?"

"What? Not going on the honeymoon? No, it would seem a little odd wouldn't it?"

"I suppose." Lucius runs his eyes over her rather like a racing enthusiast sizing up a new horse. "I should like to see you in your Muggle swimwear though."

"Lucius!" She clutches her flaming cheeks and looks around frantically hoping that they have not been overheard.

After another hour of dancing during which time Hermione's feet become very sore and her temper very short Lucius liberates Hermione from the clutches of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"My apologies, Minister, but I believe it's time for my wife and I to make our exit." They slip away quietly leaving Narcissa's team of organisers and the woman herself in charge of what now appears to be a raucous party.

They are both silent as Lucius leads her back across the lawn and into the Manor. The building is quiet and dark. As soon as she crosses the threshold Hermione slips off her stilettos and gives a sigh of pleasure as the cool marble floor soothes her aching feet. She glances uncertainly up at Lucius, suddenly wondering if doing something so gauche as standing barefoot in the entrance hall is a terrible error in pureblood etiquette. His expression is indulgent though and he stoops to pick up her shoes in one hand. He offers her the opposite arm and leads her through the quiet house. By the time they reach the top of the stairs Hermione is so tired she is sagging against him.

They move down a passageway Hermione hasn't seen before heading into what she thinks is the West wing of the house. Numerous blond witches and wizards peek out at her from the portraits that line the wall and there is a great deal of muttering and murmuring, although she can't make out exactly what they are seeing. It is probably nothing good.

Eventually they enter a room which she can only surmise belongs to Lucius. She fails to hide her start of surprise as she takes in his bedroom.

"What did you expect?" Lucius asks wryly. "Green silk drapes and effigies of snakes on every surface?"

"Pretty much." Hermione steps further into the room. To her right is an enormous bed dressed entirely in crisp white cotton. The book on the bedside table and a folded pair of reading glasses the only indication that the room is occupied at all. "Where are all the dark artefacts and implements of torture?"

"I had the elves hide them all before you arrived. Speaking of which"—he indicates in the direction of the comfortable seating area at the other end of the room—they have moved your belongings too."

Hermione looks over at the small pile of suitcases. All her worldly goods look rather pitiful in this environment.

"Where are my books?" The carefully labelled boxes are missing and she tries to hide the panic in her voice.

"I believe they have been taken to the library." Lucius looks down at her. "As you can see I keep a few of my favourite volumes to hand." He gestures to a large bookcase against one wall. "I should be happy to create some space in order for you to do the same."

"Thank you." It's an indication of how tired she is that she doesn't immediately start examining the titles of Lucius' private collection, or demand to see the library.

She turns to look once more at the bed. "So this is where all the nocturnal debauchery is going to take place."

"Yes." Lucius does not sound nearly as lascivious as he had when he was pressing his suit. She studies him carefully. He looks tired too. There is just a hint of a shadow under his eyes and his platinum hair is slightly less pristine than usual.

"Would you like a drink?" Lucius moves across to a low table beside the fireplace on which sits a crystal decanter and two glasses.

"No thank you." Hermione feels a little drunk and at the same time slightly hungover. It's not a pleasant sensation. She watches as Lucius pours himself a measure of the brandy. His hands are shaking slightly and he fumbles as he tries to replace the stopper. He sets the glass down untouched and leans forward bracing his hands against the low table.

"Is something wrong?" Hermione sinks down onto a low sofa opposite her husband.

"No." But he doesn't turn to look at her.

"Oh, right." Hermione wriggles her toes in the thick pile of the carpet. Things have really gone beyond her sphere of emotional reference. She doesn't know how to deal with a suddenly withdrawn husband on one's wedding night and it's not as if she can pop off to the library to look up a textbook. Instead, she cautiously approaches him and places a hand on his shoulder. He flinches at her touch and she quickly takes her hand away.

"I'm sorry." She retreats a little.

"You have nothing to apologise for." He turns to face her and rubs a hand across his eyes. "If I am being honest I must confess to feeling more than a little overwhelmed. Today's events have rather taken me by surprise."

Hermione struggles to process this new information. Lucius has never struck her as a person capable of being overwhelmed at all. She is rather shocked by his admission as if the tectonic plates have shifted beneath her whilst she is busy doing something else and she has returned home to find the world permanently altered. Apparently unaware of her inner turmoil Lucius continues to speak.

"I woke up this morning expecting only to be relieved of my virginity in the most humiliating and mutually unpleasant way imaginable. Had I hazarded a guess I would have expected to be back in this room several hours ago feeling sorry for myself. Instead, I find myself married to a woman half my age who expects to be thoroughly debauched when all I can think about is how absolutely exhausted I am."

Hermione stares at him. She is rather touched by his admission. Who would have guessed that Lucius was a flesh and blood male capable of feeling anything, let alone exhaustion?

"It's ok." She steps toward him again. "I'm too tired too. Also, my feet hurt and my head aches from wearing my hair up for so long and my dress is rubbing under the arms." She turns her back. "Would you mind helping me out of it?"

After a moment she feels him begin to undo the row of buttons down her spine. She wonders why he doesn't use magic but enjoys the gradual release as the heavy dress begins to sag. She steps out of it with no grace and a sigh of relief. To her surprise, she feels his hands in her hair before she can move away. He gently removes pin after pin sending them floating towards the heavy oak dressing table in the bedroom as he does so. When they are all out he unwinds her hair stabbing his fingers through the tangled mass and rubbing them against her scalp. She lets out a groan of pleasure.

"Thank you."

"It's my pleasure." A brief pause. "I draw the line at your feet."

She laughs. "I can rub my own feet. Can we maybe go to bed now?"

They make their preparations in comfortable silence. Lucius disappears into the bathroom and reappears wearing a pair of navy flannel Pyjamas. Hermione stifles a giggle; she hasn't ever seen Lucius look his age before. She has taken advantage of his absence to change out of her bridal underwear and into her own tartan pyjamas which, after some consideration, she realises are eerily similar in style to his.

Lucius sits down at in front of the dressing table and reaches behind him to expertly braid his long hair. After a moment's hesitation Hermione sits next to him and does the same. He doesn't speak but glances across at her a slight smile on his lips.

"Which side of the bed do you prefer?" he asks politely.

Hermione shrugs. This may the most surreal conversation she has ever had. "I don't know. I've never shared a bed before. I have a horrible feeling I'll find myself in the middle of it whichever side I'm allocated."

"I have the same concern." Lucius stands and surveys the bed cautiously. "Very well, I shall take the side nearest the door, the better to protect you from intruders."

"Are you expecting any intruders?" Hermione moves around the bed.

"I very much hope not, but one never knows." Lucius climbs into bed and lies down on his back looking rather uncomfortable. Hermione does the same and pulls the covers up to just beneath her chin.

"Well, goodnight then," she says awkwardly.

"Goodnight. _Nox_."

And in the most bizarre turn of events, since Professor McGonagall turned up with her Hogwarts letter and told her she was a witch, Hermione finds herself lying in the dark next to Lucius Malfoy.

She stares blindly up at the ceiling for several minutes. Despite the luxurious comforter (she wonders if it is stuffed with peacock feathers) and the warmth of the manor she feels chilled and uncomfortable. This is ridiculous, she thinks. She doesn't even sleep on her back. She wants to flip over onto her front, but she's too afraid of disturbing Lucius. Although, judging by his breathing he's not asleep either.

"Lucius?"

"Yes."

"Are you still awake?"

"Apparently so." He sounds resigned.

In the dark Hermione hesitates. "Do you regret this?"

"What?"

"Marrying me." She wants to gesticulate but she is still clutching the covers in a maidenly fashion.

"Of course not."

She feels the bed dip next to her and a blast of cold air briefly invades the pocket of warmth she had created before Lucius pulls her rather ineptly into the circle of his arms. They are spooning now with her back pressed against his front. He is gloriously warm and Hermione wriggles a little trying to appropriate more of his body heat.

"Oh." The hardness against her backside is difficult to ignore.

"Ignore it, please." There is a thread of embarrassment in Lucius' voice. "It doesn't know when it's not welcome."

Hermione sniggers. "I'm sorry; it really isn't welcome right now. I'm a bit sore." It's much easier, to be honest in the dark without those grey eyes burning into her.

" _I'm_ sorry." Lucius' hand rests gently on her hip. "You should have told me...if I'd known…"

"You'd have what? Kissed it better? Don't worry, Lucius its part of becoming a woman." She would have made inverted commas with her fingers if she hadn't been trying to preserve as much heat as possible beneath the covers.

"I would have asked the family healer who was one of the wedding guests for a potion." His matter of fact answer makes her feel rather foolish and she doesn't respond.

Lucius' erection throbs against her buttocks and he lets out a sigh of impatience.

"Do you want me to do something about it?" Hermione offers rather half-heartedly.

"What sort of something?" Lucius sounds interested in spite of himself.

"Well, I could use my hands or my mouth. I have no experience of the former and not much the latter, but I could give it a go. Or you could do it yourself and come on my belly and breasts, some men like that."

"Miss Granger!"

"Sorry, I'm too tired to be delicate." She lets out an almighty yawn. "You know when you want to use that scandalised tone you'll have to start saying Mrs. Malfoy or I won't know who you're talking to."

"Mrs. Malfoy." He turns the words over in his mouth. "How do you know all these things, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Books mainly. Even Hermione Granger can't be all work and no play. I started stealing my grandmother's romance novels when I was about thirteen. The boys always made fun of me for having my nose stuck in a book. Half the time I was actually reading about innocent virgins having their virtue stolen by dastardly older men."

Lucius snorted. "I hope you don't include yourself in such a category. I'm beginning to think that you robbed me of my virtue rather than the opposite." He eases himself closer still. "Thank you for the kind offer, but I shall wait until the morning when we are both rejuvenated. I look forward to hearing more about your grandmother's collection of books."

Hermione smiles.

"I believe this marriage may prove to be mutually satisfying on many levels," Lucius adds.

"I hope so." Hermione pats his arm and relaxes against him as she finally feels sleep begin to claim her.

At 3:37 am Hermione Malfoy wakes from a deep sleep and sits bolt upright unintentionally yanking the covers off of her new husband who startles awake swearing and reaching for his wand.

"Holy fuck," she yells. "If Draco marries Astoria you'll have to shag her too!"

 **A/N I know, I know. I wrote the longest wedding scene ever and Lucius even got an erection, but no wedding night sex happened. They just weren't feeling it. Don't worry though they will make up for things in the epilogue.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N Woohoo! I've finished my little story... it's only 25000 words longer than planned! Thank you so much for all your encouragement which spurred me on to take this ridiculous story much further than I ever dreamed. Today's installment is brought to you from the passenger seat of my car while the demonspawn enjoys a post swimming nap. No wifi, no grammerly...probably a lot of errors. Sorry - it's totally her fault.**

 **A few people have speculated on the nature of Primae Noctis and what it will mean in the future. Primae Noctis was actually a real thing. 100's of years ago the laird of a Scottish Village had the right to have his wicked way with the young woman of the clan before they married. I don't know if it was ever actually honoured, but it features in the film Braveheart so it's obviously totally true. However, I made up my own version of Primae Noctis because I liked the latin. In my version the most senior male in the family sleeps with the new bride. So in the case of Lucius and Hermione Abraxas is dead and therefore Lucius satisfies the ritual. But if Draco is to marry anyone else Lucius will still be bound to sleep with the new bride...so speaks my head canon.**

~5 years later~

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" Lucius paces nervously.

"Yes, and stop pacing; we've just had the lawn reseeded."

He stops but continues to frown as she draws her wand.

"And you're certain the Bukowski sequence is the best one to use...because I've read that -"

"Lucius!"

"Yes?"

"Which of us has the charms mastery?"

"You do, dear." He lapses into silence.

Hermione casts a complicated incantation and the house begins to glow as every single protective ward surrounding the building and grounds is illuminated in red and orange. Lucius exhales softly.

"Some of these are hundreds of years old. I had no idea there were so many."

"It does seem a little ostentatious," Hermione remarks. "Not to mention ineffective. Voldemort still got in, didn't he?"

Lucius winces. "Unfortunately the house isn't warded against stupidity."

Hermione gives his arm a brief squeeze before she concentrates once more on the wards.

"Morning, Father, Granger." Draco makes his way across the lawn stepping daintily around the illuminated wards rather like a diamond thief in a heist movie.

"Hello, Draco." Lucius inclines his head. Hermione gives an absent-minded wave.

"Well this is quite spectacular isn't it?" Draco rubs his hands together in anticipation. "Is this really going to work, Granger?"

"I think so." She continues to focus on the wards. "Either that or the entire place will go up in flames."

Draco gives his ancestral home a dispassionate look. "Thank goodness I retrieved my stamp collection."

Lucius huffs at his sons' levity but is prevented from venting his ire by the appearance of Astoria.

"Is he bothering you, Hermione?" She places a restraining hand on Draco's arm. "Let the grown-ups work, dear."

"But I wanted to help." Draco pouts theatrically.

"You can help by being quiet and staying out of the way," Lucius says.

"And take your father with you," Hermione adds.

"No can do, Granger." Draco conjures a pair of deckchairs and flops down into one. "Father's all your problem now."

~Six months previously~

"No, absolutely not. If you even think about it I'll rip your balls off. Or maybe I should just castrate you anyway as a preventative measure." Hermione glares at Lucius her face contorted with rage. Her hair crackles with involuntary magic.

"It must be nice to be loved, Father." Draco snorts with laughter at the sight of his enraged stepmother.

"This is not funny, ferret." Her fingers inch toward her wand and Draco holds up both hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry, Granger. I didn't mean to make fun of you. I was merely trying to inject some humour into the situation."

"There is absolutely nothing funny about this," she replies through gritted teeth.

"Hermione, if you'd just be reasonable. Of course, I don't like this any more than you do—"

"She _is_ being reasonable," Astoria interrupts Lucius. "I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but there is absolutely no way I am sleeping with you. No offense," she adds belatedly.

"None taken." Lucius' face is a mask but Hermione knows her husband well enough by now to see that he is relieved. Whilst sexual relations between the two of them remain eminently satisfying Lucius is still something of a prude at heart. However much he might enjoy their own bedroom activities he has no desire to sample the joys of the flesh with another partner. It is one of the many things she loves about him. But, Lucius is a man for whom family and familial responsibility is paramount. She has lived in fear for the last four years; uncertain whether Lucius would, once more, put familial responsibility first; even if it meant sacrificing their happiness.

"But Astoria" —Draco has a pleading look Hermione has never seen before— "if we don't fulfill the ritual then—"

"Then what?" Astoria shrugs her elegant shoulders. "We can't live in The Manor — fine we'll find somewhere else. And, whilst I might be excited to get my hands on all of your lovely money I trust you to funnel plenty through your account into mine. I'm not a virgin, you know that yourself." She doesn't even blush as she exchanges a knowing look with Draco. "So there's no need for your father to verify that."

"What about the final part of the ritual though?" Lucius' face is troubled. "There has never been a squib in the Malfoy family."

"And there won't be either." Astoria leans over and places her hand in Draco's lap. "We don't plan on having children."

"What?" Lucius looks scandalised. Hermione has to hide her mouth behind her hand. She loves her husband, prudish ways and old-fashioned values and all. That doesn't mean that she doesn't find him immensely amusing at times. She reaches out and places a hand over Lucius'

"If they don't want kids it's really none of our business," she says gently.

"We're decided, Father. I've never been that keen on parenthood anyway, seems like a lot of hard work if you ask me." Draco smiles over at Astoria who nods in agreement.

"My research into Brazilian voodoo practices is really taking off. I want to spend more time in the field, not time in the nursery." She shrugs. "I love children, but I've never wanted to have any of my own."

While the two have them are speaking Lucius looks between them with an expression of dawning horror on his pale face. "Hold on." He glares at Draco. "If you do not plan on having children that leaves the Malfoy line without a successor."

"I don't think you have much to worry about there, Father." There's a malevolent gleam in Draco's eye. "I imagine Granger's got things covered. Isn't that right, Hermione?"

Hermione is widening her eyes at him desperately trying to head him off. Draco appears immune to her pleas. "Worst kept secret in wizarding Britain, isn't it Astoria? Last week she threw up in front of half the goblins in Gringotts."

"What on Earth is he talking about? Are you ill?" Lucius turns to Hermione with a look of concern. Hermione hurriedly stops making throat slitting gestures at Draco.

"No, I'm fine."

"She's better than fine; positively blooming in fact." Draco leans back in his chair and grins like a Cheshire Cat.

Lucius looks back and forth between the two of them with his brow furrowed.

"Draco, I feel as if you are trying to embarrass my wife."

Draco grins wolfishly. "Oh no, Father. I believe it's you who has embarrassed her, or _embarazada_." He nudges Astoria's arm. " _Embarazada_ , do you get it because Granger is—"

"Isn't it time we were leaving?" Astoria leaps to her feet. "Look at the time, Draco. We really need to dash, we've got that thing, remember?"

"Nope." Draco settles back further in his chair. "I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be than right here." He is looking hard at his father and seems unsurprised when Lucius leaps to his feet.

"You're pregnant!" He points a shaking finger at Hermione who is looking daggers at Draco.

"Draco, _the thing_ ," Astoria whines. Both Malfoys ignore her and continue to stare at Hermione.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lucius is doing a very good impression of a kicked puppy.

Hermione is going to kill Draco, actually, kill him with her bare hands. She glares at him some more before returning her attention to Lucius.

"I was going to," she says apologetically, "but it was a lot to take in and I just wanted to get used to the idea myself first. Besides, I knew you'd fuss and I've got that visit to the dragon reserve in Romania next week-"

"You're not going anywhere near a dragon reserve."

Hermione shoots Astoria an _I told you so_ look. The other witch shrugs sympathetically.

"This is the Malfoy heir." He presses a reverent hand against her completely flat stomach. "My son."

"And already I feel usurped." Draco gets to his feet. Come on Astoria, let's go and do your imaginary thing there isn't nearly enough shouting here for me. "Congratulations Father, commiserations, Granger. Well done for overshadowing our engagement. You do know he's going to be insufferable for the next seven months." He gives Hermione a jaunty kiss on the cheek and Apparates with an obnoxiously loud crack.

"That boy has been thoroughly spoilt." Hermione scowls at Lucius. "Don't think I'm going to allow my child to turn out like _that_."

Lucius adjusts his cuffs. "I blame Narcissa," he says with a completely straight face.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me." His seems unable to stop touching her his fingers skimming small circles across her belly.

"I haven't known that long." She leans her head against his shoulder. "It was a bit of a shock. I wasn't even sure you'd be pleased."

"I can't have been that much of a shock. We have not taken preventative measures for months. I understand that you were inexperienced when you came to the marriage bed, but I'm sure you understand at least the basics of human reproduction."

Hermione scowls at him, but he continues unabashed," Why on earth would I not be pleased? You are giving me a son."

"You know it might not be a boy," she points out.

"Of course it will be a boy. I'm sure I told you years ago that the Malfoy line only ever produces male heirs."

"I remember. You told me that you only produce a single male heir."

"Exactly."

Hermione sniggers. "Well, that wasn't true of your father, was it?"

Lucius' eyes narrow as he considers the implications of what she's saying. "I suppose not." He concedes. "My grandfather died before my father married. My mother was spared the ritual. As far as I know, my father sired both myself and Draco."

"So the baby could be a girl?"

He looks hard at her stomach. "I suppose it could."

"Would you mind?"

"Mind? Hermione, I'd be delighted. I don't know anything about bringing up girls, but she is unlikely to be more of a princess than Draco." His smile fades. "Are you going to tell me why you thought I would be unhappy?"

Hermione frowns a little. In other situations, she admires her husband's tenacity, but right now she would prefer if it were easier to distract him. He is remarkably resistant to subject changes.

"I just think you might find some of the changes a little difficult to accept." She places a gentle hand over his where it still lies on her stomach.

"What changes?"

"Well, I'm already tired and sick. My breasts are bigger and they hurt. Soon they're going to hurt so much I won't want you touching them, and let's not even get into lactation. My ankles will swell and I might get varicose veins or haemorrhoids. I'll start showing in a few weeks. Eventually, I'll be so massive I won't even be able to tie my own shoelaces. According to my reading, even my genitals will look different." She frowns. Lucius is not responding in quite the way she imagined. The look he is giving her is predatory.

"Are they really bigger already?" He cups her breasts in his hands allowing gentle fingers to skim over her sensitive nipples.

"That's all you heard?" she asks incredulously.

"I heard everything." He plants a kiss along the angle of her jaw. "You don't know how I have longed to see your body change as it grows my child." One hand leaves her breast to slide down and cup her backside pulling her closer against him. "In fact, as your husband, I believe it is both my right and duty to conduct a thorough examination in order to catalogue the changes."

"Hmmm." Hermione is already distracted by the press of his erection against her.

Lucius leads her to a low couch. They are in a small sunny sitting room on the first floor of the manor which looks out over the lawn where they were married. Despite the relatively public location Hermione is not concerned at being observed. After numerous embarrassing interruptions, the house elves have finally learned not to disturb them when they are alone.

She is a little surprised as Lucius kneels at her feet and unbuckles the flat leather sandals she is wearing. He slides them off and lifts one of her feet to examine it.

"They don't look swollen to me." He presses a kiss into her instep.

"It's much too early. Oh!" He has wrapped his tongue around the bony prominence inside her ankle. She sighs with pleasure as he rests her foot on his shoulder and proceeds to kiss his way up her lower leg.

"These look the same too." He nuzzles behind her knee and Hermione let's out a whimper of surprise and arousal. She hadn't known the back of the knee was an erogenous zone. He continues kissing her working his way up the inside of her thigh until she's a panting, whimpering mess.

"Please."

His lips are hesitating over her drenched knickers.

"I couldn't possibly." With a look of deep regret, Lucius places her leg back onto the chaise. "I need to investigate further." He unerringly finds the zip at the side of her dress and runs it down over her ribcage. He has become considerably better acquainted with women's lingerie over the past years and he makes short work of her bra. Hermione is topless in a matter of moments.

"Perhaps they are bigger." Lucius weighs her breasts in his hands as he rubs his thumbs over her nipples. His hot mouth fastens over one hardened peak and he sucks hard. Hermione whimpers again and fists his hair.

Dissatisfied with the speed at which he is moving she wriggles her way into his lap and straddles him allowing him full access to both breasts. His eyes are hooded as he bites at her neck, his fingers toying with her nipples. Hermione grinds against him pressing her hot core against his still covered erection.

"Lucius, please." She squirms in his lap. Her whole body is suffused with white-hot heat. She aches and it feels as if she will die if he doesn't do something immediately to ease that pressure. She is clawing at his clothing, her fingers desperately fumbling with the buttons of his trousers and he is making absolutely no effort to help, merely watching with an amused smirk as she whimpers in frustration.

"Thank Merlin," she sighs as she finally frees his cock which to her immense relief is fully erect. She cannot wait a single moment longer and she leans forward and then back impaling herself rapidly on his length. He grunts with surprise — their foreplay is normally considerably longer and more involved than this, but she is soaking wet and desperate for him; striving still to pull him closer still though they are already joined as intimately as possible. "Please, please, please," she hears herself chanting as she bucks up and down her thighs already burning with the effort. Lucius' hands move to her hips and he takes over the rhythm and pistons into her. His mouth is at her breasts one more and he alternately sucks and bites at her tender nipples soothing the burn of his teeth with tender sweeps of his tongue. Hermione has never felt so deliciously out of control before. She can feel her impending orgasm uncoiling through her hot body with a glorious inevitability. She actually stills for a moment in order to prolong the pleasure of hanging on that knife edge of ecstasy before she plunges over. Her vision becomes blurry; all of her peripheral senses are lost. All she can feel is the glorious pulsing heat between her legs as she contracts over and over around her husband's cock. He comes seconds after she does and grips her face between his hands kissing her with desperate hunger, his tongue invading her mouth so ferociously that she can barely breathe.

They come down to earth slowly, drenched in sweat and other body fluids.

"That was most unsatisfactory," Lucius pants.

"What?" Hermione is still recovering from what she thinks was the best orgasm of her entire life.

"I had planned to both examine and taste your intimate areas at great length; you prevented me from doing so. In addition, I had thought to sample a number of different positions in order to ascertain if your sensitivities or preferences have changed. I did not even receive an opportunity to adequately assess whether your scent has altered." Lucius looks genuinely aggrieved. Hermione can only laugh.

"Lucius, I'm going to be pregnant for another seven months, there will be ample time for you to investigate me."

"I suppose," he accedes grumpily but with a smile in his eyes. Hermione climbs off his lap and affectionately kisses his jaw.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

Lucius is frowning. "You do realise you are smearing our combined essence over a priceless piece of fourteenth-century furniture don't you?" Hermione glances down at the brocade chaise on which they are both seated.

"I've never much liked it anyway. I was nervous," she continues, knowing full well Lucius is not particularly interested in the furniture. "I wasn't sure how you'd feel about the Malfoy line being sullied by a half-blood."

"I feel delighted."

"Good."

They lean against each other for several moments, enjoying the pleasurable afterglow. Lucius' fingers are once more drawing idle patterns on Hermione's stomach. He lets out a long sigh.

"You know we are never to be free of this bloody curse?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean at some point you will likely bare me a son. Who in turn will wish to take a wife and we will be left once more in this horrible position."

"Hmm, about that"— Hermione steels herself for his disapproval— "I believe I may be able to counteract Primae Noctis. I've been reading about it, you see, during my breaks at work."

"In the course of your work as a curse breaker you've been reading about breaking curses during your breaks?"

"Yes, does that surprise you?"

"Not in the slightest." He kisses the top of her head.

"I think with a bit more research I should be able to lift the curse." She looks hesitantly up at him. "If you want me to that is. I believe it would involve tapping into the wards around the Manor and exploring how they are tied to yourself and Draco."

Lucius looks at once hopeful and worried. "Some of those wards were cast by very dark wizards, Hermione. I couldn't let you risk yourself."

"Because I'm a fragile little woman who has never taken any risks before?" She gives him a stern look.

"Because I am desperately in love with you and would never forgive myself if any harm came to you."

"Oh." She is thoroughly disarmed by his declaration. She knows Lucius loves her, but he doesn't speak of it that often.

She climbs into his lap once more. "I can't stand the thought of you with another woman."

"I know." He buries his face in her hair and inhales deeply.

"Then will you at least let me try?"

"I'll think about it."

~Six months later~

Hermione takes a deep breath and begins to unpick the wards. She uses a sequence of charms to highlight those associated with Primae Noctis. She half expects not to find them. Lucius can't tell her when his family began to practice the ritual and there is no definite record of it actually being tied to the family at all. Hermione half hopes to find it has all been an elaborate hoax.

She shudders as her consciousness comes up against a thread of magic far darker than her own. She pulls back and then begins to tentatively probe the ward. She feels hate and spite emanating from it and she pulls away with a small squeak. She is shocked by the sheer malevolence still potent within centuries-old magic.

"Are you alright?" Lucius still hovers at her elbow.

"I'm fine." She raises her wand again - no memory is going to scare her off.

"Really, Hermione we don't have to do this. I could look for another curse breaker. Who isn't pregnant with my child," he adds quietly.

"Shoosh," she says absently as she isolates the ward from the others so only a single thread is present. It pulses with an angry red light.

"Did she just _shoosh_ your father?" She hears Astoria ask Draco.

"She did. No respect for their elders these Muggleborns."

"Malfoy, If you don't shut up I swear I will wrap this evil ward around your pretty neck." Hermione is sweating slightly as she begins to cast protective charms around the ward. She suspects it won't go without a fight."

"Was that aimed at Draco or me?" Lucius is still standing next to her.

"Both," She grunts. They lapse into silence.

She carefully constructs a golden cage around the ward. It reminds her a little of the cage which Voldemort used to protect Nagini and she shudders at the thought. Finally, the painstaking work is finished.

"Alright, I'm going to destroy the ward." She glances at Lucius. "You might want to stand back."

"I shall remain here."

She rolls her eyes. He really is incredibly obstinate. Before he can mount any further objections she levels her wand at the ward and blasts it with a stream of pure energy. She is unprepared for its retaliatory strike and is blown backward as a pulsing jet of red light shoots between the bars of the cage to merge with her own wand. She staggers almost tripping over her own feet until her back hits something warm and solid which she belatedly realises is her husband. She braces herself against him as she funnels all of her energy into her spell.

"It's too strong," she gasps as she desperately tries to hold the connection. Her arm is beginning to waver and she feels her own magical core being rapidly depleted. "I can't hold it," she admits. Her voice is weak and breathless. Then Lucius' arm is around her waist and his hand covers hers on her wand. She feels his magic flowing through her and strengthening the waning spell. Then another hand covers Lucius' and the light from her wand flares even brighter. Draco has joined them his face grim as he stares at the ward which is writhing within its golden cage. Hermione is close to passing out when it bursts into flames and abruptly disintegrates leaving nothing but a black ash which slips between the bars of the cage to land harmlessly on the grass below.

Hermione slumps in Lucius' arms and he goes down on one knee; his own energy almost entirely drained too. They lose their balance and land in a tangle of limbs with both of their arms wrapped protectively around Hermione's bump.

"Father, Granger-" Draco's voice comes from somewhere above them- "We are all aware of your proclivities, but this is neither the time or the place." Lucius raises Hermione's hand which still contains her wand and fires off a pathetically weak stinging Hex in Draco's general direction."

"Are you alright?" His voice is tender and filled with concern.

"I'm bloody brilliant." Hermione is so tired she can barely speak. She is bruised and battered and she suspects she has a contact burn on her wand hand. But she is, at the same time, euphoric. "That was amazing, Lucius. If you let me use you like that all the time I would get so much more done at work."

"What we just did was incredibly stupid. We could all have been killed. I hope you know I am probably never going to allow you to wield magic again." His arms tighten possessively around her. "Let alone allow you to use mine."

"I know." She nestles sleepily against him.

"Did it work?" Astoria has joined Draco and is looking at Hermione with something like awe in her eyes. "I think so." Hermione slowly gets to her feet. "We won't know until we see if the wards accept you as Draco's wife."

"How would I know that?"

"Try and do something only a family member can, like Apparating into the house."

"Alright." Astoria spins on her heel and disappears with a ladylike pop.

"You did it." Lucius gazes down at Hermione. "Thank you. You have lifted a curse my family has been suffering for hundreds of years." He presses his lips against hers and she leans into his familiar warmth and clutches the front of his robes to pull him even closer.

"I am glad nobody has managed to lift it before." She pulls away a little to wave at Astoria who is smiling at them from one of the windows in the East wing. Draco Disapparates with a crack and appears next to her. They kiss ostentatiously. "You do realise if it weren't for Primae Noctis it would be me up there enduring Draco's affections."

"That truly would be a terrible fate for any woman." Lucius scoops her a little awkwardly into his arms and carries her back into their home.

The end

 **A/N I really hope this is ending is okay. A word of warning - there is nothing remotely romantic or sexy about pregnancy or child birth - in real life she would probably have vomited on him, told him not to touch her boobs on pain of death and taken to sleeping in the spare room until the child was one...but that wouldn't have made much of a story would it?**

 **I'm already working on my next Lumione... I'm trying to challenge myself and write some proper angst...knowing me that means I will publish a story featuring a tap dancing Voldemort with Lucius and Severus on roller skates...**


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